A Wolf and Mage's Uneasy Path
by Defiant.Anjeru
Summary: A selfish and hurt Hawke seeks solace in Anders' arms when Fenris abandons her. A desperate attempt to start over; nothing is ever perfect and she struggles, torn between the two, putting three hearts in turmoil even as the city they call home begins to crumble around them. ActII - endgame. F!Mage!Hawke/Fenris/Anders love triangle. Mature for violence, and sexual situations.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: **This starts after Fenris' and Hawke's one night stand in ACT II. Hurt by Fenris' abandonment, Hawke takes comfort in Anders' embrace; Fenris is jealous, but remains detached, the only indication of his affections barely evident in his arguments with the abomination. After some time, the elf begins to realize he isn't capable of letting Hawke move on and is unwilling to give up – he will do anything to win her back from Anders, but nothing is ever easy, is it?

Fem!Mage!Hawke/Anders/Fenris love triangle ensues.

This idea originated from one of my playthroughs where I did exactly this; Fenris has one moment where he even acknowledges Hawke/Anders and never brings it up again, not even in Act III. I wanted to build on that and this is fic is the result.

_Disclaimer: Bioware owns anything Dragon Age…and my soul. :D_

* * *

"I'm sorry. I feel like such a fool." He sighed, eyes downcast to the floor. She tried to think of something, anything, to say – he was regretting what they had done, she could see it in the way his body was angled away from her, toward the door.

"But…you came to me, you started this!" It felt like such a stupid thing to say, but she was hurting, feeling the dread of knowing he'd used her settle over her like heavy chainmail.

"This…this never should have happened." And then she found herself staring at his back as he retreated, leaving quietly through the door. She listened as the door to the mansion opened and shut, signaling his departure from her home, from her. Hawke took a deep breath; he felt like a fool? No – she was the fool. She had trusted him despite his hatred for her kind and now she sat in her smalls, staring at the door and listening to her mental mantra that begged him to return.

Her gaze never strayed from the wood of the door. How long she stared at it, she wasn't certain; when she drew her eyes away, finally, she found that the sun had risen and light was filtering through the drapes. Had she really watched the door all night? No – he wasn't the fool, she was.

* * *

Hawke should have been on her way to the Hanged Man. Her and her companions would meet there and discuss matters that demanded their attention. Varric had said something the day before about having found Bartrand; they had agreed to go tonight to see if there was any truth to the rumor, but that had been before Fenris had shown up at her home. Seeing the others, and quite possibly Fenris, did not appeal to her right now. Feeling strangely disheartened and numb, she found herself walking the familiar path to Anders' clinic in the undercity.

The doors were open, as they always were. As a healer, Anders never turned away a patient, coin or no. The thought made her smile; he was a troubled man, but was good at heart, she knew that. She was one of the only ones who could. Others, like Fenris, would condemn him without so much as a second thought – not that she couldn't understand the why. Anders was as dangerous as he was caring. There was no doubt about that. It was one reason she had kept her distance. Yet, after what Fenris had done, all she wanted was to be in his company; as a healer, maybe he could make the pain of Fenris' betrayal fade away.

Hawke set her staff against the wall beside the door, brushing her dark hair back from her eyes as they sought out her friend. He was talking to an elven woman, a caring smile gracing his gentle face. A child was clutching at the woman's leg as she spoke with Anders. Hawke kept her distance as they finished their business, Anders passing a pouch of what she knew to be herbs to the elf – those pointed ears, they made her think of Fenris. Her chest tightened and ached, nearly unmercifully. She didn't notice they had left until Anders was standing in front of her, addressing her to get her attention.

"Hawke, it's good to see you. What brings you by?"

The question was a valid one, but she wasn't certain how to answer – why had she come? "Nothing…" she mumbled lamely. "Just wanted some company." She nearly blushed with embarrassment when he chuckled.

"I would be a fool to turn away your company." He smiled, something she found she liked. He looked younger when he smiled. In that moment, she decided she needed to make him smile more often. He moved past her, grabbing a bowl up from a crate and moving to set it just outside the clinic doors. She watched, curious.

"What are you doing?" She finally asked, walking toward him. She leaned down, looking over his shoulder curiously; was that milk? He had mentioned something about a cat once, but he had also said he'd been ordered to get rid of it.

"Putting out milk," he said as he pushed himself up from where he knelt. A soft sigh followed. "I miss having a cat around, but I think the refugees have scared them all off." He turned to face her, a disgusted expression showing on his features. "Or…maybe eaten them."

"Yuck," she mumbled as she shuddered. That thought was unwelcome. It was like trying to picture herself eating her Mabari hound, who was like a member of her family. Again…unwelcome.

He nodded, his mind seeming to wander elsewhere for a moment. The blonde moved past her, before coming back to stand just in front of her. "You know," he started, almost hesitantly, "I have been meaning to thank you. Having someone like you make a name for yourself in Kirkwall…it's done a lot for mages, Hawke. You are the kind of leader we need, to tell the world we won't be punished any longer for our Maker given gifts."

His words were nice, but they made her frown inwardly; why did they make her think of Fenris? Was it always going to be like this – every little thing reminding her of the elf and what he had done? "Politics aside, Anders, I don't want to see the Templars lock you up." It was true enough. She cared for him, in some form or another, she knew. In this instant, she wanted something, anything, to help her forget last night.

Anders frowned, looked away for a moment, and then sighed as he returned his amber gaze to her pale blue one. "I have been trying to hold back…you almost saw what I did to that girl. You…you have seen what I am. Really am. But Hawke…I am still a man. You can't tease me like this…I won't be able to resist forever." She frowned at his words. Had she teased him? She couldn't recall.

Her heart took a traitorous turn, beginning an increased, rapid pace within her breast. Her palms were sweaty and she curled her fingers, only to uncurl them almost immediately. _Fenris_. No, NO. She wasn't going to allow herself to think of him. He _used _her. He _left _her. He _didn't _care for her. Anders did. She knew he did. She could see it in his eyes, in his features, in the sad way he was looking at her.

"I…will I drive you mad?" She asked, almost daringly; _Maker, what was wrong with her_?

Before she knew it, his hand came up and slid into her hair, cupping her head and bringing her toward him. He kissed her, passionately, her lips parting in a surprised gasp that he took advantage of. Her hands curled in his coat and held on desperately as he made it nearly impossible to think; she was thankful for that, her mind blissfully blank as he drowned her in pleasant sensations. He pulled away, only slightly, gazing down at her, before stealing one more kiss – a light touch, though still passionate, melding their lips together. Was she foolish for not pushing him away?

"This will be a disaster," he sighed, though his lips belied his words as they turned up into a gentle smile. "But I cannot live without it. We could die tomorrow and…I don't want it to be before I tell you how I feel."

She trembled and sucked in a breath. "Is it in verse?" Maker, now she had turned to jokes again?

His features fell and she worried it was because of her words. He looked agonized. Like someone had just killed his cat. "I thought with Justice…I thought this part of me was over. I can't give you a normal life, Hawke. If you're with me…" he trailed off, gazing away. "We'll be hunted. The whole world will be against us." He sighed, turning back to look at her, cupping her face gently with his calloused hand. "If your door is open tonight, I will come to you. If not…I'll know you took my warning at last." He dropped his hand and stepped away from her. Turned away from her. Her chest clenched and she suddenly found herself staring at Fenris' back as he left her room.

_No, please. Stay. Don't turn away from me. _

Before she knew what she was doing, she caught his arm. He turned toward her, arching a dark brow. "Hawke?" His voice jolted her, bringing her back to reality.

"I'm sorry," she dropped his arm almost frantically, before she turned and bolted from the clinic.

* * *

Hawke had stopped by the Hanged Man, given her apologies to Varric, before she fled for home; she didn't want to help anyone today. Not even her friends. She wanted someone to help _her_. How long could they abuse her and expect her to solve everything without breaking down? She wasn't invincible. She was human, like the rest of them; she had feelings, thoughts, wants, and needs.

Once she was home, she locked herself in her room and lay on her bed, arms wrapped around a pillow she hugged to her chest. How could she have allowed any of this to happen? First Fenris, now Anders. To the Void, how had it all gotten so messed up? She had never intended to let Fenris into her bed, much less her heart, but in their heated argument, somehow it had happened. And when he had left, he'd taken her heart with him. Not that he cared.

Anders…Anders loved her. She knew that. But she knew what getting involved with him meant. He was rebellious against the circle, the chantry, the Templars. Like Bethany, Hawke had always just kept her head down and kept out of sight – she didn't instigate, not like Anders was known to. Could she allow him into her life, knowing _who _he was? He had nearly killed a mage they had saved from Templars – would he turn on her too in a rage; would Justice turn Anders against her, if he saw her as a threat?

Hawke sighed and pushed her nose against the soft material of her pillow. Maker…it still smelled like him; sweat and leather, mixed with some unique herb she couldn't identify.

_He pressed her down, lips caressing hers in a brutal caress. His kiss was hard and almost punishing. She cried out as he thrust himself inside of her, invading her in the most intimate way. Her sheath clutched at him, body trembling as his hand palmed her breast, fingers twisting a delicate peak. "Hawke," he moaned her name as he pulled his length from her, only to thrust it back, spearing her deeply. Again and again, the pace he set was nearly animalistic. Growls against her ear had her nearly coming right there on the spot, but he refused, stopping to let her calm, before building her up again. It was like some twisted form of torture._

"_Fenris, please!" She gasped after what felt like hours, their bodies covered in perspiration. He grunted, nipping her lip before he thrust hard, flesh slapping against flesh. He didn't stop this time, pushing her over the edge; she nearly screamed, her back arching as wave after wave of pleasure rolled over her. His hips jerked against hers and he groaned loud, his hot seed spilling deep. _

_He collapsed beside her, drawing her against his chest. She inhaled, taking in his scent, to hold with her; he smelled like leather, and sweat, and an herb she didn't know but would now always associate with him…_

Tears rolled from her eyes and with a frustrated groan, she sat up and hurled the pillow into the fire. It caught fire easily enough and she watched it burn, her chest tight with suppressed sobs. She would _not_ cry over him; he'd gotten what he wanted from her. It was done, over.

She should move on.

She stepped out from her room and moved to the banister. "Bodahn, Anders is coming by. Leave the door unlocked tonight."

"Yes, messere."

* * *

Her heart was racing, but she desperately tried to keep herself calm as she stood at the end of her bed. Night had fallen hours ago, she realized as she folded her arms across her chest and gazed into the flickering oranges and yellows of the fire. He wasn't going to come, was he? She was such a fool. They all wanted one thing from her – was it too much for her to have hoped Anders would be different?

"Hawke," his voice startled her and she turned to look at him, her eyes cautious.

She swallowed thickly as tears threatened to spill from her eyes; he'd come, he'd actually come. He didn't leave her. Fenris was here. NO. It wasn't Fenris, it was Anders; forget about Fenris, she mentally screamed over and over. Anders loved her, Fenris did not.

"You came," she whispered as she unfolded her arms. "I wasn't sure you'd come."

He sucked in a breath, glanced away. "Are you sure you want me here?"

"Anders?" She trembled.

"I thought you and Fenris…" he turned back to look at her, his lips pressed into a frown. "Or did the beast finally turn on you?"

She frowned as her mind screamed at her to defend Fenris against Anders' words, but it was true, wasn't it? He had turned on her and bit her hand. He was a wolf she couldn't tame. Her eyes fell to the floor and she sighed. "He…he left. There is nothing more between us, Anders."

He came forward then, raising her gaze to his as he cupped her face with his hand. "I am sorry he hurt you." He frowned and shook his head. "But I cannot be sorry if he led you to me."

He kissed her then, and it was unlike earlier – soft and gentle, a slow exploration. She trembled and wrapped her arms around his neck, praying his kiss would wipe Fenris' from her mind. His arms wrapped around her and he deepened the kiss, his tongue slipping between her lips to dance sensuously with her own. They started moving back and with a sigh, he tumbled them to the bed.

* * *

She woke with a start, her body covered in a sheen of sweat. Gone, he was gone. Where was he? She flung out an arm desperately and sighed with relief when it came against his warm body. He hadn't left her. It had all been a dream. A twisted nightmare given to her by the Fade's demons to use her desires against her.

Fenris had stayed. She leaned down and nuzzled his ear, his round ear; no, this wasn't Fenris. She jerked away as Anders stirred. She rolled out of the bed and slipped on her house clothes, pacing away with her arms wrapped around herself.

Hawke was disgusted with herself. She wasn't this kind of girl, who slept with one guy and then moved onto the next. Her pacing ceased beside the fire and she sighed, staring into it. Maybe this was for the best…Anders cared about her, would love her and, in time, she would forget Fenris and the pain he'd caused her.

In time.

* * *

It had been awkward, at least to Hawke, the first time she, Anders, and Fenris took on a job together. As they walked the Wounded Coast, she found it hard to breathe. Fenris never brought up their night together or, said nothing that indicated he knew of hers' and Anders' budding relationship. He was detached and cold as ever.

Nothing happened. No fights, no yelling, no arguing; it was as if nothing had happened and she had dreamt it all. Fenris really didn't care, did he?

Suddenly, she was angry. And the foes that met her magic were given no mercy. They rescued the apostate and Hawke seethed silently as they left the cave and began their trek back toward Kirkwall.

"You were an idiot to leave Hawke." It was said so casually, Hawke nearly tripped; Maker's breathe, what did Anders think he was doing!

Fenris scoffed. "And you were fast enough to replace me," the elf said, saying nothing else for a long moment as he stared at Hawke's back. As jealous and angry as he was, he couldn't blame her – he had left her, not the other way around.

"I love her; you can't even imagine what that is." Anders snapped back, clearly irritated.

This time Fenris growled, his lyrium brands alighting with his anger; Hawke turned slightly as she swallowed the lump suddenly in her throat. "Do not bear your heart to me, mage, unless you would see me rip it out." The threat was clear and silence fell over the group, Varric giving her a somewhat amused expression; blighted dwarf, this was not funny.

"That's enough," Hawke said after a long moment. "We have things to do."

Anders loved her, she had to remember that; as long as he loved her, she could forget Fenris' betrayal – more and more, he led her to believe he didn't care…so why should she?


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: **Thanks for the reviews, alerts, and favorites; it's good to see familiar faces. ^_^; This chapter is super angtsy, so beware!

_Disclaimer: Dragon Age belongs to Bioware. *pout*_

* * *

"What have you gotten yourself into this time, Hawke?" The dwarf chuckled as he leaned back in his chair, propping his feet up on the table. As soon as they had returned to Kirkwall, she was quick to make an excuse for her departure, and walked with Varric to the Hanged Man. If she had known he'd find her predicament so amusing, she might have been more inclined to punt the dwarf off the docks instead.

"I didn't get myself into anything," she denied his words with a shake of her head.

"Nug's ass you haven't! What was all," he waved his hand, "that about earlier - between Broody and Blondie? Curious, not whining; love triangles make great for hero tales."

"It's not…" She pressed her lips into a thin line. "It's not a 'love triangle', Varric."

"You could have fooled me! The two were bad before, but I would lose a bet if I said it wasn't worse now – and, after their little chat, it is about as subtle as a Qunari what their problem is."

She sighed with defeat; Varric was her friend and he was just concerned – he just had a really funny way of showing it. "You remember Fenris' little…rant after he killed Hadriana?"

"Hard to forget; you were nearly in tears when he stormed off. And you spent hours trying to find him," Varric's smile faded slightly.

"He was waiting for me at my home. He'd come to…apologize, but we ended up arguing even more. The next thing I knew, we were kissing. You can guess the rest," she smiled wryly.

"So Broody does have some feelings, after all," he chuckled.

"Who knows?" She shrugged and paced away. "Afterwards it was obvious he was…regretting what had happened between us. He apologized, he said it was a mistake, and he left. Never came back."

"Oh Sweetheart," Varric sighed. "Please tell me the daft elf came back eventually." When she turned to him, a hurt expression on her features, he found his hand twitching. "Seems Bianca needs to have a little chat with our resident brooding elf."

She smiled softly. "Varric – I am a grown woman, I can handle it, but it's good to know you and Bianca have my back."

"Soooo," he set his fingers together in a steeple, contemplating aloud, "how does Blondie figure into this?"

Hawke sighed and leaned her hips against the table, folding her arms across her chest. "Fenris said he felt like a fool, but I was the one who felt like a fool – I trusted him when I knew I shouldn't. He used me; fucked me and left, never looked back. I stared at the door all night, you know, like a lovesick adolescent. I wanted him to come back…I cared for him, in my own way, but it hurt to realize that he didn't."

"Hawke…"

"I don't know why, but I found myself walking to Anders' clinic. As…troubled as he is, he has always understood and has always been there for me. He confessed to me and I was so wrapped up in what Fenris had done, I couldn't think straight. I didn't refuse his advances and when he came by my home, I told him what Fenris and I had was over, because it was – he didn't care about me and I wanted to forget what had happened." Hawke's lips twisted in an uncharacteristic scowl of disgust. "I let Anders help me forget but all I could do throughout was think of Fenris – when I woke, I panicked, reached out for him because I had thought he'd left. Like Fenris…" She sighed.

"I will skin that blighted elf myself," Varric nearly growled.

"That little chat they had is the most Fenris has spoken of our relationship and it wasn't even to me." She smiled sadly. "Fenris doesn't want me and he's moved on…I am just trying to do the same."

* * *

Fenris had followed Hawke and Varric back to the Hanged Man, making sure to stay far enough back that they wouldn't realize he was there. His argument with the abomination had upset her; she'd shut down, not said a word the entire way back to Kirkwall, much to Anders' and Varric's dismay. He wasn't certain as to why he was following them – he knew he wouldn't be able to speak with her, but something compelled him to follow. They had grabbed a pint and taken it to Varric's room in the tavern, shutting the door behind them; Fenris, almost disgusted with himself for doing so, leaned against the wall beside the door and listened.

His elven ears caught every word and by the end, where they started chatting about nearly inconsequential matters, he felt like someone had used his ghosting ability against him and twisted his innards unmercifully.

She…she thought he'd used her. For sex. The thought made him growl aloud as he stomped on angry steps out of the tavern and back towards his pitiful home.

She'd moved onto Anders _because _of him. Because of what he'd _d_o_ne to her_. He had pushed her into the abomination's waiting arms. He yelled some elven curse and snatched up the bottle of wine on his table, throwing his head back to down as much as he could in one shot; a breath, then another. And another. Until the bottle was empty. He clenched his hand, brands alight, shattering it within his grasp – he imagined it was Anders' heart in his hand and not a glass bottle as it splintered into fragments and fell to the floor.

The haze of the alcohol was pleasant, but it wasn't enough. He could still remember…no, he refused, moved to the table, and started on another bottle - though the memories refused his denial.

_He was torturing her, but how could he not? Every little noise she made was like heaven to his ears. Her body was pale in the dim light of her room and he could not keep his hands from her. Pink nipples were tugged and pinched, before caringly laved upon with his tongue. Her sheath on his cock was nearly too much and he wanted to spill himself within her at the simple feeling of being joined with her this way; he had not been able to stop thinking about her, despite their differences and _what_ she was. _

_As he started his brutal pace, his mind swam. There were images there, ones unfamiliar to him yet they made him ache. A young girl, with fire red hair, running across the court yard with a grin on her elven features. She called a name, one he couldn't hear, but then he was moving, heading toward her, reaching out for her and suddenly, lights burst behind his eyes and he came. His seed spilled within Hawke as she keened beneath him, her body shuddering deliciously with pleasure _he _had given her. _

_He collapsed on the bed, pulling her against him and pushing his nose against her raven hair. She smelled…of herbs, like most mages, but whereas he normally found it repulsive, it instead soothed him. She fell asleep against him, completely unguarded, and he couldn't help but feel humbled by her trust; this hadn't been planned, yet…_

_No, it hadn't been planned. Neither had the…flashes. Were they memories? He couldn't do this. His heart clenched and ached, making him feel something he didn't recognize nor want. He slipped out of the bed and dressed himself, standing beside the fire as he thought of what to tell her…what _could _he tell her? To the Void, he was afraid. His life had been better without these feelings. These feelings he didn't know how to deal with. Being with her…meant acknowledging them and possibly invoking memory flashes he was unable to deal with. This…it was too soon. He couldn't…_

"_I'm sorry." It was all he could think to say, though he knew it was not enough – would _never _be enough._

The bottle smashed against the wall as he hurled it. His head was swimming in a drunken haze, but he merely picked up third bottle and went at it – he was determined to drown himself until he couldn't think, much less remember.

* * *

"Mother! Mother!" Hawke screamed it over and over as they ran into the foundry, her magic slaughtering any shade or demon that dared to appear before her. Her heart was pounding in her chest; no, this couldn't be happening. First father, then Bethany, then Carver went to the Templars, and now…_NO! _She wouldn't let this killer have her mother, the only family she had left. The Maker would not be so cruel.

"Hawke, calm down, love." Anders grabbed her arm and turned her toward him. He cupped her face. "We will find her."

"I know," she swallowed thickly, her eyes daring to look beyond the mage's shoulder to where Fenris and Varric stood just behind them. Fenris was glaring, hatred seething on his pleasantly aesthetic features; Maker, did he hate her? No, she couldn't think about that, not now. She nodded and pulled away from Anders, feeling uncomfortable beneath the elf's gaze.

They continued on, following the blood trail to a hidden door that had not been there three years ago. She'd run to the body on the cot, terrified it was her mother, feeling slightly disgusted with herself when she was relieved to find that it was Alessa and not Leandra. It had been the girl Gascard Du'Pois had taken hostage in an effort to draw out the killer, before Hawke had caught him and turned him over to the guard despite his pleas to let him join her. To let him find the killer to avenge his sister – but, as Anders and Fenris had voiced, she didn't trust him either.

"It's not mother," she sighed, nearly sobbing with relief. This wasn't the time to be relieved. Her mother was still here, somewhere. She signaled the others to follow her and they continued through the foundry basement. She found scribbled notes that made little to no sense and then, dread heavy in her breast, she found her mother's locket in a puddle of blood.

Trembling fingers lifted it from the blood and held it against her chest. "It's mother's locket," she said lamely, glancing back at the others, her eyes instinctively finding Fenris before Anders – they both looked upset, though Fenris appeared angry still, his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides.

"If that is what I think it is," Varric started, gesturing at the blood with Bianca, "we need to get moving – _fast_."

Hawke nodded and slipped the locket into one of her pouches. They continued and after another battle with shades and rage demons, she found herself standing in what appeared to be someone's bedroom, staring at a portrait that made her head swim unpleasantly.

"What is this?" Hawke breathed, fingers curling into tight fists. "This…it looks like mother!"

"It shows a remarkable resemblance," Fenris said softly, affirming her fears; there was something disturbingly wrong here and her urgency to find her mother was suddenly beyond comprehension.

"Keep moving!" She shouted, and they ran down the hall, down the stairs, and into the final room where they found an unknown mage waiting for them, standing beside a gowned woman as he appraised the situation. "Where is my mother!" She screamed the words at him, her body trembling as hands tightened impossibly hard on her staff. He spoke but she couldn't hear him, her heart beat a drum in her ears that made it impossible to think and hear; her eyes strayed continuously to the seated figure, praying to the Maker over and over that it was mother and that she was safe.

"_Where is my mother!_" She screamed the words this time, mana thrumming through her body and magic beginning to spark all over the length of her staff – a mage's emotions often held the reign over their magic, and right now, Hawke was barely in control. Breathe, breathe – it was a mantra she repeated, and in that moment, she would have given anything to feel Fenris' hand on her shoulder, so steady her.

"Do you know what the most powerful force in the universe is?" The old mage asked as he turned and moved to stand before the gowned figure. "Love," he sighed. "I pieced her together from memory; her hands, delicate fingers, her alabaster skin…and this face. _Her face_. At last I have brought her back to me and I will never let her go again."

"Where. Is. My. Mother." The words were bit out between clenched teeth. Anders moved toward her, but quickly moved back when her aura warded him off. Fenris watched her cautiously, his brands reacting to her. And Varric seemed to almost be watching in awe.

The man looked at her for a moment, then smiled slowly – a cruel, evil smile. The figure before him stood, shambling like a corpse as it moved around the chair to stand, facing them. Hawke's eyes widened and she heard the others gasp; they were looking at her mother, all stitched and sewn together like a monstrosity, eyes faded and white. _Mother, no! That was not her mother! _Hawke screamed and her magic exploded from the staff as shades appeared all over the room. Suddenly, it was chaos and as each demon appeared, she tore them down one by one, taking pleasure in their suffering before they disappeared for good.

Demons. Blood Mages. Darkspawn. Templars. Deep Roads. She was sick of it all, so very sick of the Maker taking everything she cared of from her. She found that blighted blood mage and crushed his throat beneath her boot, nearly reveling in his despaired expression before he died.

"Hawke, it's over." Fenris' hand found her shoulder and she jerked, her head snapping around to stare at him as her chest heaved and body trembled. "They are all dead." It was strange, how such a simple gesture and his words calmed her so completely. The aura faded and she dropped her staff with a nod.

"My baby," the corpse stumbled toward them and Hawke darted forward, catching the shell of Leandra as she collapsed.

"Mother…" She trembled, her eyes looking up at Anders' pleadingly, as if it to say _'save her'_.

"There is nothing I can do," he whispered, almost agonizingly. "His magic was keeping her alive."

"No, no, that's not true." Her voice trembled.

"Thank you, my love," her mother whispered, raising a hand to touch the cold, dead flesh to Hawke's warm cheek. "He would have kept me trapped in here, but now I am free."

"Mother…please, we can –"

"Shhh; my baby girl has become so strong." She smiled, almost sadly. "I can be with your father, and Bethany but I will be leaving my baby all alone..."

Tears rolled down her cheeks and she shuddered, holding her mother more tightly than she had anything before. "I will be fine, mother," she whispered through a sad smile.

"I love you…" Leandra sighed, her head falling back. "I have always been so proud of you…" Her eyes fell shut and she stilled, literally becoming a corpse within Hawke's arms.

Silence fell and her companions all watched on, unsure of what to do and what to say, as Hawke remained a huddled form over her mother's dead body. How long she stayed like that, they weren't sure. Finally, she set her mother down on the cold earth, stroked a hand lovingly over her face, then stood and turned to them; her face was set, empty, dull, eyes shuttered. No more tears fell and they all found that expression frightening, even Fenris – even after he had left, he'd never seen such a look on her face.

"Come…I tire of this place," she whispered and they dared not argue with her.

* * *

Hawke sat the edge of her bed. Her head was throbbing unmercifully, but she had no desire to use magic to push away the pain. It made her feel alive, and not dead, like she'd felt when she was holding her mother's mangled corpse in her arms. Her eyes were locked on her hands, picturing all the blood that had been there before she'd spent hours scrubbing it from her skin until it was raw and pink.

"Hawke…" His voice had her sliding her gaze from her hands to him as he walked cautiously into her room. "I know nothing I say will change it. I just…" He sighed, eyes downcast, "I'm sorry."

"_I'm sorry," his said the words as he cast his eyes to the floor. The fire reflected of his skin, his white hair, and she tried to breathe through the dread settling over her. _

"_Fenris…"_

Anders came toward her, still cautious in his approach as she turned her eyes up to gaze at his worried features. "You were lucky to have her as long as you did." She frowned tightly, folding her hands together and they gripped each other unmercifully. "When the pain fades…that's what will matter."

As much as the words angered her, she knew they were true. She sucked in a breath and sighed it out softly. "I appreciate it, Anders…"

He smiled and took a seat beside her on the bed. He took her hand and she was ashamed of herself to wish it was Fenris' hand holding hers', and not Anders'. "I'm here for you, whatever you need."

Before she knew what she was doing, she cupped his face and drew it down, kissing him harshly. The kiss was long, deep, robbing them both of the ability to breathe. When she drew back, she looked into his amber gaze, her own nearly pleading with him to help her. "I need to feel alive, Anders. Make me feel alive," she whispered, and kissed him again.

* * *

When she awoke later that night, she was alone. The fire had died and the room was cold, nearly unbearably cold – the bed felt too large, and too empty. Where had Anders gone? She frowned; even as she asked herself the question, she knew the answer. He'd gone to help the underground mage resistance but he never indulged beyond that, not wanting to involve her too deeply so that when the Void took them all, she had a way out, she had deniability.

She didn't want deniability! She didn't want to wake up alone. The world was slowly burning despite her best efforts to keep everything peaceful, so what was the point of deniability if she was alone?

Quick to find herself a set of robes, she dressed and went to the study. On her desk sat a bottle of that wine Fenris always had – his master's favorite, he'd said. Her hand reached out and grasped it, popping the cork out to took a deep swig. It burned warmly as it made a path to her belly. Again, she drank. Then again. Before she knew what she had done, the bottle was empty – the one thing she'd had to remember Fenris by was now nothing. Grasping the bottle tightly, she glared down at it as the haze of alcohol settled over her pleasantly. She set it down and made her way from the room to the front door, slipping on her boots before she slipped out into the cold of Hightown.

* * *

Fenris groaned and brought the arm down that had been resting over his eyes, the pounding on his door making his temples throb. Had he drunk himself into a stupor again? The empty bottles splayed around him were answer enough. He sat up slowly, sucking in a deep breath and scowling when the pounding did not cease. Whomever had dared to bother him at this time of night was in danger of having their heart torn from their chest and have it crushed beneath his heel; Maker, what was wrong with him? Had watching Hawke return to the estate with Anders torn him up so intensely?

He was at the door before he knew it and opened it, a growl sliding from his lips; it abruptly died when he saw a crying Hawke standing on his doorstep, shivering.

"Tell me something – anything," she whispered brokenly.

"Hawke, what are you – "

"To the Void with you!" She snapped out and started beating his chest with balled hands. He grunted, the blows hardly worthy of retaliation, before he captured her thin wrists in his hands. "Anything, say something. I…I failed her. _Please._" Her pale blue eyes looked up at him from behind tears, her expression agonized and full of pain that made his chest ache.

"I don't know what to say," he confessed, feeling like he had that night he left her; useless.

"Am…Am I to blame for not saving her?" She nearly whimpered the words, as if she were afraid he would say it was her fault and condemn her.

"I could say no, Hawke, but would that help?" Her expression fell even further and he tightened his grip on her wrists. "You are looking for forgiveness, but I am not the one who can give it to you."

Her lips twisted into a scowl and she shoved him away, stumbling back; he realized she'd been drinking then, that haze in her eyes all too familiar. His hands fell to his sides, balling into fists as both their chests heaved. "Go home to your abomination," he spat, not certain where the words had come from – as soon as they left him, he wished fervently that he could take them back. Her body trembled and he took a step toward her, only to be blasted away by her magic, bouncing off the door. When he climbed to his feet, she was gone.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: **I think I missed writing my drama and angst. ^_^; Again, continued thanks to all whom take a moment to review, as well as subscribe for alerts, and add this to their favorites. I'm really enjoying writing this one.

_Disclaimer: *more pouts* Bioware._

* * *

That night hadn't been spoken of and Fenris wondered if she even recalled it; she had clearly been upset, in part due to the influence of the alcohol she'd consumed. Why did he say such a horrid thing? She hadn't clearly been asking to be mistreated, yet he had snapped at her like a starving wolf, ready to eat her flesh rather than remain at her side. None of this should have mattered; in the end, she was a mage and there was no changing that. There was not a way he could think of that this, whatever it _had _been, could work between them.

That didn't mean the memories didn't taunt him. Or that his dreams didn't torture him. If he were so inclined, he might find her and accuse her of casting some accursed magic spell on him, but the part of him that was not feral, that actually had some bit of civility, knew she was suffering enough. She was not deserving of his bitterness so soon after the death of her mother.

But the Maker apparently had more in store for her, for mere days after her mother's murder all hell broke loose in the streets of Kirkwall as the Arishok unleashed his Qunari to conquer the city, all due to a selfish whore's desire to stay alive – in turn, leaving her supposed friends to a fate that was rightfully hers' alone.

* * *

Fenris was pacing, much to Anders' annoyance, yet he couldn't deny the itching beneath his skin that warned him of impending danger.

"Something is wrong," Anders frowned, looking at the closed gates of the Qunari hold. "We should have gone in with them."

"Shut up, mage. You state the obvious," the elf snarled.

They weren't given time to argue as Hawke and Aveline came bursting through the gate. "Go!" Hawke ordered as she ran past, Aveline on her heels. Anders and Fenris exchanged a look, but were quick to follow and the group didn't stop until they reached the stairs to Lowtown. Hawke paused, bending to rest her hands on her thighs as she fought to catch her breath; Aveline took a careful look around, gauging their situation from every vantage point she could.

"This is all that damned whore's fault," Aveline spat. "So help me I better never come across her again or I will not be held responsible for the harm she comes to."

"Aveline," Hawke sighed. She wanted to be mad at Isabela, but she couldn't – Isabela was Isabela, this was just…how she was. Hawke hadn't expected anything besides betrayal in the end; not only was she growing accustomed to it, but that's just how deep Isabela's selfishness ran. Isabela would always put herself first.

"You're alright," Anders breathed the words as he stepped forth and drew Hawke against his chest, an act that had the elf glowering at them despite his want to ignore them all together. "Thank the Maker, I thought…"

"What kind of hero would I be if I fell to a Qunari?" She chuckled as she drew away, her smirk faltering as her eyes met Fenris' heated gaze. Her hands lifted and made a show of rubbing her clothed arms as her body shuddered – from what, Fenris wasn't certain. He wanted to rip Anders' hands off of Hawke and drag her to the alley, smash his lips to hers, and show he just how much he'd been thinking of her.

Hawke adverted her gaze and turned away, looking up the stairs as citizens of Kirkwall ran past, no doubt running for their lives. "It was only a matter of time before the Arishok did something like this," Aveline growled the words. "I knew he was planning something."

Hawke shook her head. "No – he wasn't planning this. Not at first. He was stuck here because of Isabela but the…filth of the city has annoyed him to the point where he needed to take action." She sighed, swinging her staff off of her back and grasping it in her hands. "He is no doubt after the Viscount – we must hurry."

* * *

Isabela's return had been a much welcomed surprise, though she blamed Hawke for poisoning her with goody-two-shoes influence. She returned the relic to the Arishok's waiting hands and stood beside Hawke as the Qunari regarded the book thoughtfully, before passing it to one of his men standing nearby.

"We are now free to return to Par Vollen…_with _the thief."

"What?" Both Hawke and Isabela voiced the word, before Hawke shook her head. "Afraid not, big horns – she returned your relic, now you will kindly turn 'round and go back to where you came from."

"A one on one fight then, Hawke, to the death; the prize will be the thief."

"You're insane! I am the one who stole from you, duel me, not Hawke." Isabela demanded her hands fisted at her sides angrily.

The Arishok shook his head, glaring openly with disgust at the pirate. "_You_ are unworthy. I will fight Hawke and no one else."

"Why not?" Hawke shrugged her shoulders. "I've lost count of how many have tried to kill me – and _failed_. We might as well add to that number."

Her companions were forced back by the Arishok's men, forced to watch Hawke face the towering beast alone. Fenris knew without a doubt how the abomination felt, but he was surprised to find his own heart pumping madly within his chest. His throat was dry and perspiration coated his flesh as he watched the Arishok charge Hawke's much smaller frame, sending her flying into the wall with a cry. He had to keep himself rooted to the floor by will alone, or else he would be running to her side in that instant; Fenris wasn't religious, but in that instant he prayed that Hawke would come out of this alive. There was no alternative – she _could not_ die. Hawke stumbled to her feet and rolled as he came at her again, spinning her staff as she threw bolt after bolt of lightning at his hulking body. Fenris cringed; no mage was a match, at least one on one, for the Arishok.

It had to be a miracle of the Maker's working that, what felt like an eternity later, Hawke stabbed the sword end of her staff into the Arishok's chest, finishing off the Qunari leader where he lay on the steps to the Viscount's throne. She was bleeding and when Orsino and Meredith came busting in, it was noticeable that she limping as she made her way toward them. Fenris' breath caught at the look Meredith gave Hawke – a reluctant acknowledgement of her achievement, but one that would only protect her for so long.

"It would seem Kirkwall has a new Champion," the Knight-Commander nearly sneered the words and Fenris inwardly cringed; Champion or not, Hawke was still an apostate, a fact Meredith would not soon forget.

* * *

"I knew you wouldn't disappoint!" Varric exclaimed. "Champion of Kirkwall – oh the stories I can tell now."

"Varric, please; your stories are wild enough as is. Next I will be fighting the whole of the Qunari army stark naked." Hawke grimaced as she chuckled.

"As lovely as that image is, there are more important matters at hand." Anders shook his head and Fenris had to bite back a growl at the thought of Hawke naked beneath the abomination. "I need to heal your injuries." He set her on the bed and she sighed, reclining against the mountain of pillows almost warily.

"I am fine, Anders, really," she reassured him, touching a gentle hand to his stubbled jaw; Fenris' hand clenched so tightly shut he knew his palm was sure to be bleeding. It was one thing to see the abomination touch her, but something else entirely to see her touch _him_. It made the feral part of him nearly impossible to muzzle. He nearly shook with the urge to shoot forward and rip the two apart; he knew he had no right, but the feelings in him refused to heed to logic.

"You are a horrible liar, Hawke," Anders chuckled and turned to face Varric. "I will stay with her for a while – keep an eye on her." He glanced pointedly at Fenris, his eyes narrowing slightly as if to dare the elf to say differently – and he wanted to, there was no hesitation in that acknowledgement.

"Alright Blondie – keep me posted." The dwarf turned and eyed Fenris' tense posture. "Come on Broody, we can check on her later. No need to stress poor Hawke out anymore today." Fenris returned Anders' glower for a long moment, before glancing briefly at Hawke whose expression nearly undid him; she looked sad, an ache in her eyes that she had hidden so well before now. Steeling himself, he turned his back to her and left, same as he had before, missing the way Hawke's face fell and her lip trembled.

* * *

Anders had slipped out again Hawke realized when she woke in the middle of the night, alone in her bed. Her body still ached from the abuse it had been put through in the duel against the Arishok, but Anders had assured her she was no worse for wear; she could at least be thankful for that little miracle. When she had spared a glance on the battlefield to find Fenris, she was certain it would the last moment of her life before she abruptly joined her family at the Maker's side – especially when the Arishok's blade had sent her spinning across the floor to slide into the wall.

No matter what she did, she couldn't bring herself from being drawn to him, even as Anders continued to love her loyally and did everything in his power to keep her happy. Maker help her, maybe Varric had been right – this was turning into a warped and twisted love triangle, even if she and Fenris weren't together; in her heart, she knew part of her belonged to the elf, whether or not he wanted her.

"Hawke?" She nearly jumped out of her skin, gasping as she sat up. Her heart pounded frantically. She could see little to nothing in the darkness of her room, so she gathered her mana and concentrated it in her palm, sending a small ball of fire into the pit to light it. Slowly the room came into focus, barely alight with the faintly flickering flames, but it was enough to see the elf standing inside her room, by the doors that led to the balcony.

"Fenris?" Maker, she hoped she wasn't dreaming – so many had started out exactly like this.

"I…Are you alright?" Fenris kept his gaze adverted and she could see that his hands were fisted at his sides. She warily kept her distance, not rising from the bed but instead choosing to stay put.

His words should have been comforting but instead they riled her, made her angry, almost bitter. He was here asking after her health, when he had so easily turned her back on her without a care those many, many, many nights ago. Damned hypocrite! She wanted to smite him more than ever in that moment, her arms folding across her chest as she glared openly at him, not that he saw, still stubbornly refusing to look at her.

"What's it to you?" She snapped. His eyes jumped to her, widening slightly she realized with smug satisfaction – she wanted to keep him on his toes, hurt him, like he'd hurt her. That wasn't who she was. Vicious intent wasn't who she was, but it was something his presence aroused in her ever since their one night of heated, misguided passion.

"I would not see you hurt, Hawke. I…I wanted to make sure you weren't seriously wounded." He bit the words out, his brows drawn down over his eyes. While they were meant to be words of care, instead they sounded almost like words of fealty, as if he were there out of obligation and nothing else.

"A little late for that, don't you think?" She scoffed.

"Hawke," he growled her name, clenching his hands so tightly they shook. "I did not come to argue with you."

"That's a surprise – you hardly talk to me otherwise." She sighed in defeat and lay back on the bed. "I am fine, Fenris. Now, if there is nothing else, please just go."

Silence stretched between them uncomfortably, her heart racing in her chest, betraying her rather calm demeanor as she watched him coolly from the comfort of her bed. His eyes narrowed, danced away, skittered back – as if he were wrestling with himself about what to say, or what to do. It was a feeling she could relate with.

"Does he live here with you?" Fenris grunted lowly, almost so low she nearly missed what he'd asked.

"That's not your business, now is it, Fenris? Tsk." She shook her head, then frowned tightly, lips pressed into a hard, cold line. "You made sure of that."

He found himself glaring at her, his brands suddenly flaring in the dim light of the room. "Fine," he snarled and turned, leaving the way he came; she was right – it was none of his business anymore.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: **Nothing too much in author's notes, just continued thanks to all the reviews, favorites, and alerts; it does a great deal for motivation to know you enjoy what I write. As pointed out, there is a good deal of Hawke/Fenris fics out there and I wished to make something, well, different – and this aspect of a love triangle, mixed with what Fenris and Anders'will both put Hawke through, I hope will make this a worthy piece of fiction.

As most of you probably are already aware, I have no beta, so if I make any mistakes – as I always do – I apologize.

_Disclaimer: Bioware. _

* * *

While the most prominent figures within the walls of the city remained, save the no deceased Viscount, the Champion of Kirkwall grew to become nearly as famous – it not more so. It started almost immediately upon the demise of the Arishok and retreat of the Qunari forces; letters arrived to her house in bulk, flowers were delivered, and nearly the majority of the citizens would bow their head if she walked past. While this, at first, made life easier, it grew apparent with time that it would matter little in the end.

Hawke sighed, penning another return letter to some noble in Kirkwall requesting her aid(she'd lost count of how many she'd received, much less how many she had answered). It had only been months since her surprising victory against the Qunari invasion, yet already the unrest between the mages and the Templars were beginning to resurface. Something Anders never failed to remind her of.

Setting the quill down, she folded the letter and sealed it with wax in the Amell family crest. Ink stained fingers set it atop the stack before she stood and moved away from the desk toward the fire. It was quiet, as much of the last few months had been; Anders came and went(between his clinic duties and his underground mage resistance, he was oddly withdrawn), Isabela had vanished, Merrill was (beyond) obsessed with restoring the Eluvian so much so she rarely left her home in the alienage. Aveline was busy trying to keep order with the city's _official _leadership dead and buried. Sebastian she saw whenever she visited the Chantry to speak with Elthina, or pray(albeit she wasn't the most religious of people), but Varric was the only one she ever saw these days on regular basis – if she didn't go to him, he came to her.

That was something she was eternally grateful for. With her mother gone, the house at times was _too_ quiet. Having Varric there made it more bearable and, in these few months, the pain of her mother's death began to fade.

It was strange to her that the pain of her mother's loss would lessen, but the pain that came with Fenris' withdrawal did not. He hadn't come by, hadn't contacted her, or even acknowledged her with more than a simple nod or a cold look; not since the night she had made it clear what went on in her life was no longer any of his business.

How she regretted those words now. Anders' scent lingered in her home, an odd mix of lyrium and herbs yet, even though she'd come to care about the mage, she missed Fenris' scent now that he no longer lingered within her home.

She was despicable, wasn't she?

* * *

The fire burning before him only reminded him of the fire that burned within him; a fire, a desire, for a mage that refused to give him reprise. He thrashed nightly on his meager bed, tormented with dreams of the night they had shared, or teased with nightmares of her in Anders' arms or – worse even – Justice's. There were nights, where nightmares of her burning in Justice's blue fire were flashed before his eyes and those…those were the worst. He'd wake, covered in sweat, heart beating impossibly fast – unable to help himself, he'd flee his mansion and go to her window, just to see for himself that she was alive. He knew, undoubtedly, that it was only a matter of time before the abomination drew Hawke to her death.

He reasoned that was why seeing them together angered him so. While he denied any feelings for the mage who continuously haunted him, he did not wish her harm. It was as he told her when he'd visited her room, though she had been so bitter over his betrayal, she was reluctant to believe him. Out of her anger, and her hurt, she'd made it clear what transpired in her life had nothing to do with him.

And why – _why_ did those words hurt more than any others? He'd been tortured his whole life, had lyrium infused into his _flesh_, been alone, on the run, murdered in cold blood – but that one statement had cut more deeply than anything that had come before.

He scowled and kicked the chair across the room, where it smashed against the wall. She had expected too much from their night together – just because they'd tumbled into bed together didn't mean they were in, maker forbid, a relationship. Just because he'd had sex with her didn't mean that they loved each other.

Was that why she was so bitter, so angry with him? Because she had loved him and he'd so cruelly turned his back on her? He shook his head and stalked out of his desolate manor to stand in the cold air of the night. No, that couldn't have been it. Even if her talk with Varric, she had not confessed of her love for him, merely that she cared – if she loved Fenris, she wouldn't have so willingly walked into the abomination's open arms.

The thought of her there sickened him. Thinking of the abomination was enough to sicken him. No matter how the mage justified his reasons for merging with the Fade spirit, what the spirit had warped into was an abomination. Fenris would never see him as anything other than that – not after he had watched the blonde turn on one of his own and nearly kill her in his rage. It angered him to think Anders may someday do the same to Hawke.

His walk found him on the steps of the Hanged Man and he shrugged; might as well see what Varric was up to. Perhaps a game of Diamond Back with the dwarf would prove a worthwhile distraction. To the Void – what Fenris wouldn't give to have a clear or distracted mind in this moment. The tavern was half full of drunkards and loose women, yet no Isabela, for which the elf could be thankful for; he had been growing weary of her…rather obvious advances, not just toward him, but to nearly everyone in their group; save Aveline. The two would sooner tear each other's throats out.

"Ah, Broody! It's good to see you!" Varric exclaimed as he came toward where the elf stood just inside the door. "I'm overdue to fill my pockets with your gold."

Fenris' lips twitched into a smirk. "I could go for a game."

* * *

Hawke tossed and turned for a number of hours before she finally gave up and crawled out of bed. She dressed in her house clothes, slipped on a cloak, and swept up her staff on the way out of the manor – Bodahn, Sandal, and Orana had retired for the night, for which she could be grateful. She'd grown tired of their questions of why she was losing so many nights of sleep; how could she not? What kind of woman would she be if her unfaithful heart _didn't_ cause her some distress?

The walk to Anders' clinic was quiet, the air cold and the night strangely comforting. Her pale blue eyes kept watch around her as she walked the streets, gangs known to traipse about – though, since she had cleaned the streets last, it had been awhile since she had run across anything other than random thieves. The lantern over his door was not lit and that made her frown; more mage resistance business then – why else would he leave her home when she had given him leniency to stay?

She opened the door only to meet the end of Anders' staff, the blade end mere inches from the pale flesh of her throat.

"Maker's breathe, Anders, it's me!" She snapped, her eyes flashing dangerously as her hand tightened on her own staff.

Recognition flittered over his tired features and he instantly withdrew, setting his staff against the wall beside the door. His hand found her arm and drew her in. He stepped out, glanced around the area – no doubt checking to see if she'd been followed, then returned and shut the door. He frowned as he looked down at her. "What are you doing here?"

Her frown returned his. She glanced around him and found several mages standing in the back of the clinic, conversing among themselves even as they stared at her with suspicion written all over their faces. "I should hardly think I need a reason to see you," she sighed as she returned her gaze to his face. "I couldn't sleep."

"You know you cannot be here." His voice was stern, almost as if he were scolded a child who'd brazenly broken a rule.

"I am not a child, Anders!" She snapped, a tad more harshly than she wanted. With a sigh, she set her forehead against her staff. "Instead of keeping me in the dark, why can't you trust me? I can help, Anders. I _am_ a mage."

He pressed his lips together tightly and adverted his gaze. "Mage or no, love, I cannot involve you in this. Please…just go home." He lifted her face, leaned down to kiss her softly before stepping back to open the door for her. "I love you and I am doing what I can to protect you. Trust me."

Hawke's gaze bore into his for a long moment, before she huffed and moved past him. "Fine, Anders. Have it your way." One last look, where his features fell, before she turned. "Trust is a two way street, remember that." With that, she left.

* * *

"Good game, Broody!" Varric laughed as he drank down another mug of ale. "I'll be a nug's uncle, but your bluffing has improved."

Fenris merely chuckled and dealt them each a new hand. "Soon you'll be owing me coin, _dwarf_."

The stout man scoffed. "I'd be more likely to shave my chest hair first."

"I'll be sure to remind you of that." He chuckled.

Varric chuckled as well but it died when he raised his gaze; Fenris pressed his lips into a thin line and turned to see what had caught the dwarf's attention. He froze when he saw Hawke standing there in the doorway, holding her staff and looking at him with a pained expression. "Ah, Hawke! We were just about to start another game – want Broody to deal you in?" Varric tried desperately to ease the sudden tension in the room.

Fenris returned her pale gaze and watched as it moved over his face, perhaps searching for something. When she sighed softly, and shook her head, he figured she must not have found it. "No thanks, Varric. I just wanted to…talk," she glanced away, brushing a hand nervously through her messy dark hair. "Seeing as you have, ah, company, I will come back another time." She turned and walked out of the room. Fenris' hand clenched on his cards, creasing them indefinitely; she hadn't even bothered to verbally acknowledge his presence. Why did that anger him?

"If you're _that _clueless, Broody, you are in need of more help than I thought." Fenris' gaze jumped to the dwarf. With a chuckle, Varric shook his head and indicated the door. "Go after her, you daft elf."

"She…she would not want that." He mumbled, though he set down his cards.

"You really are an idiot. _Go_."

This time Fenris didn't argue.

* * *

Hawke trembled and leaned against the wall outside the tavern, a hand running over her face as she tried to steady herself. She had _not _been expecting to run into Fenris and it…it had taken more of a toll on her than she had thought, especially just after her little argument with Anders.

"Hawke," his voice made her shudder. She sucked in a breath and dropped her hand, raising her head to find the object of her distress standing just a few feet in front of her.

"Fenris."

_"Does he live here with you?" Fenris grunted lowly, almost so low she nearly missed what he'd asked._

_"That's not your business, now is it, Fenris? Tsk." She shook her head, then frowned tightly, lips pressed into a hard, cold line. "You made sure of that."_

"I…I find myself at a loss," he finally broke the silence, glancing away from her and shuffling his stance. "Every time I am around you, or I see you, I can find no words." He was still frowning and there was a hint of anger in his voice that she knew all too well. "However, I at least acknowledge _you_."

"Fenris, I –"

"Don't!" He snapped, his brands flaring ever so briefly with the word before he sucked in a breath and they returned to simple markings. His jade eyes locked on her again. "_You_ made it clear that your life was none of my business, so I have made it a point to keep myself out of it. Yet you continue this…" He waved his hand emphatically.

Hawke frowned tightly, her body shuddering – a mix of anger, hurt, and bitterness so potent it tasted like bile in her throat. This was getting so old. Would they ever move past what had happened? Even if they had not gotten along before their tumble, they at least were never _like this. _

"I grow tired of your hurt, Hawke. You have moved on – it is time you stopped playing the victim."

She scowled, her eyes suddenly heating as she tried desperately to keep her magic in check. Her emotions boiled, threatening to spill over. "_What do_ _you know about __**my**__ hurt?_" She bit out each word, one hand impossibly tight on her staff while the other bunched in the folds of her cloak. "You _used _me, got your jollies, and moved on like it was no big deal. _Don't you dare talk like you know about __**my**__ hurt!_"

He looked taken aback, eyes widening slightly. Then he steadied himself, frowning so tightly he looked disgusted. "You can say whatever you wish, Hawke, but how long did you wait before you spread yourself beneath the abomination? A day?"

His words hurt, because they were true. She had always felt disgusted with herself for allowing that to happen, but she had been hurt and Anders was offering comfort where Fenris had simply abandoned her. "Shut up!" She snapped, angry tears building in her eyes. "Anders was there for me, after _you abandoned _me!"

"It was just sex. Don't be naïve enough to think that it was more."

She stalked toward him, slamming a hand against his chest and shoving him against the wall opposite of the one she had been leaning on. Both their chests heaved as they stared, angrily, into each other's eyes. Finally, he groaned, slid his hands into her hair, and crushed his lips to hers. Her staff fell forgotten to the ground as she pressed her palms against his chest and tried to tear herself away. He merely growled and reversed their positions, pinning her hands to the wall by her wrists before he mashed their lips together again. She finally sighed and melted as he pressed himself against her, her tongue finding his so they could slide over each other and stroke a fire that had been burning out of control for such a long time.

She gasped as he pressed his hips against hers, clearly aroused if the bulge pressing against her was any indication. Her body trembled as she suppressed a moan. He drew his lips away and moved them along her cheek to her jaw, nipping, before his tongue made a wet trail to her ear. This time she did moan, her wrists straining against his hold.

"Your body doesn't lie, Hawke," he taunted against the shell of her ear as she trembled. "It's just sex and you wanted it as much as I."

This time she didn't shove him. No, not this time. This time, she kneed him in the groin and watched as he grunted in pain and fell to his knees; she felt like such a bitch doing that, but that…that was the wrong thing to say to her. He was goading her, and he couldn't do that and not expect her to react. Chest heaving, she scowled as he glared up at her. "You're right, Fenris, it _was_ just sex. I was foolish to think a _slave _could think it was anything else." She spat the words, picked up her staff and walked away, ignoring the curses he snarled in her direction.

This wasn't the last she'd hear of this, of that she had no doubt, so she fled home and locked herself in her room. When Fenris pounded on her window shortly after she returned, snarling that she had better answer him, she hid on the floor beside her bed and waited for him to give up. Once he did, she sighed, crawled into bed, and let herself cry.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: **Well – it was certainly easy to tell what part of the last chapter was your favorite. Thanks for the continued reviews, alerts, and favorites – and even to those of you who just read. Thank you!

_Disclaimer: Bio…? Hmm, oh yes, Bioware. _

* * *

Anders sighed as his steps brought him to the steps of Hawke's hightown manor; if he had been thinking clearly, he would have taken the underground path that led to the basements of her home, but their brief argument had rattled him.

_Hawke huffed and moved past him. "Trust is a two way street, remember that." The words hit home in a way he hadn't expected, that made him feel untrustworthy, even as Justice bristled. _

_**She is a distraction.**__ The words the spirit had said nearly endlessly were repeated again as he watched the woman he loved walk away, without so much as a backward glance. With a stern frown and troubled look, he shut the door and moved back to where the others awaited him on the opposite side of his clinic._

"_You cannot trust her," one of them hissed; Anders frowned more if that were possible and he wondered if soon his face would remain that way. _

"_She is the _only one _I can truly trust." _

He was trying to protect her. Why couldn't she understand that? He'd seen the way the elf had hurt her when he'd so callously turned his back to her. He was doing all he could to avoid the promise he'd made all those years ago when had she jokingly flirted with him. Joke or not, he felt he needed to lay out the reality of his involvement in her life would lead to.

"_No…don't, Hawke. If you were with me, I would only break your heart. And that would kill me as surely as the Templars." _

Perhaps Fenris had been right; despite his warning, he'd lacked the control to keep himself from Hawke. He needed her – as selfish as it was, he knew she was the last little piece of good left in his life, the last that would keep him from slipping into madness and letting Vengeance loose upon Thedas.

Amber eyes bore a hole in the Amell family crest, proudly on display by her door.

She may have been the only thing keeping him sane, but he was not so blind not to realize he was mucking up their relationship. He had been right when he had told his fellow mage that Hawke was the only one he could trust – yet, he was doing exactly the opposite and leaving her in the dark. Alone.

"_Trust is a two way street."_

He sighed and scrubbed a hand over his tired face.

"_Remember that." _

The early morning air bristled the hairs on the back of his neck and a distant rumble made him shudder. He glanced up to peak at the sky, but a rustle of movement caught his attention; staff in his hand, he pulled the hood of his cloak up to better conceal his features in shadows. There was a lanky figure slipping out from the courtyard and he narrowed his eyes, trying to make sense of the darkness to try and place who it was that was sneaking from Hawke's home.

He didn't need to wonder long, when the figure spat an Arcanum curse. Justice bristled within the mage and he stubbornly tramped him down as he tried to rationalize why Fenris would be here at this time of night. Hawke had told him what was between her and the elf was finished – and he trusted _her_.

"You have exactly one second to tell me what you are doing slinking in the shadows outside of Hawke's home." He spoke the words low, in a threatening rumble that had the elf snapping around, brands lighting like a beacon to draw his gaze, though he resisted, keeping his gaze level on the elf's face. He used his free hand to pull his hood down; Fenris' eyes narrowed when he realized who exactly it was that threatened him.

"I could demand the same of you abomination," Fenris snarled, his fingers curling and uncurling at his sides, something Anders knew the elf did when he fought the urge to bury his hand in the chest of his enemy and crush their beating heart in his fingers. Justice seethed just beneath the surface, ready to meet any advance, any threat, against his host.

"I am welcome, whilst you are not." Anders narrowed his eyes thoughtfully.

_**Perhaps your distraction is not trustworthy after all.**_

**Don't talk about her like that! **Anders snarled the words in his head, surprised at their intensity, but took it in stride – no one would talk negatively of Hawke, not if he were there to defend her.

"I had…business to settle with Hawke." Fenris said it after a long moment of contemplative silence, as if he had been weighing what words to present to him. He stepped forth from the shadows to lounge beneath the lit lantern, shoulder pressed against the wall as he crossed his arms over his lean chest and allowed his marking's light to fade into nothing. It unnerved Anders that he was, for lack of a better description, _relaxing_.

Anders grit his teeth. "You have no business with Hawke." As he said the words, a part of him wondered if, indeed, he did; he was not going to let Fenris weasel his way back into Hawke's life only to hurt her again after he got what he wanted from her.

His jaw tightened when Fenris' lips slowly pulled into a smirk, his jade gaze watching him from beneath errant strands of his white hair. "Believe what you will, abomination." The elf shrugged after he pushed himself off the wall. Anders had to wrestle with Justice as Fenris turned and departed, in the direction of his own mansion where he'd remained over the years.

Anders sucked in a deep breath past clenched teeth, closing his eyes and slowly counting to ten; Justice slipped back under at his persistence, no longer so adamant in his possession now that the elf had retreated. Shaking his head, he walked the last few feet to the door and slipped inside.

* * *

Fenris watched as the months passed – before he had known what had happened, a full year had passed since the day Hawke became the Champion of Kirkwall and every night, every _single_ night, had been filled with dreams of her. He had taunted the mage the night he'd been caught leaving Hawke's estate but the abomination had been right – he had no business with Hawke any longer. At least not if one thought logically and yet he was miserable, and bitter, and so very angry; more than once he had to stop himself from stalking back to the manor to rip the mage's beating heart from his chest and crush it in his hand.

Imagine his surprise when Anders knocked on his door that night. He opened the door to find him standing on his door step looking like someone had kicked his cat – his mouth was set, eyes flashing dangerously, nostrils flaring as he tried to keep his anger in check.

"What do _you_ want?" Fenris snarled, refusing to step back.

"Stay away from her," the mage said lowly, his knuckles white where his fingers were wrapped around his staff. Magic gathering within the abomination had Fenris bristling, his markings reacting and flickering in response to being in such close proximity.

Fenris' eyes narrowed, his hand tightening where it rested against the door; between the strength of his and the gauntlet, the wood splintered, drawing Anders' eyes for a brief moment before they returned to glare daggers at the elf. "I have."

Anders seemed to weigh his answer, gauging whether or not it had merit, before he nodded once, sharply. He went to turn and leave, but Fenris' next words stopped him dead in his tracks.

"I do believe it is up to Hawke who is around her and who is not." Fenris commented coolly as he stood straight, folding his arms across his chest.

"Why you – !" Anders growled as he snapped around, like a serpent ready to strike, but he merely approached and stood nose to nose with him. "You have hurt her enough. You're lucky I am just now hearing of what you did that night outside the Hanged Man, or else you'd be nothing but a bloody mess at my feet."

Fenris growled. Hawke had told him of what had transpired between them? That was _their _business and had nothing to do with the abomination; the fact that she had confided the details of their interaction angered him. Slowly, he let his lips draw into a taunting smile. "She wants me, abomination, not you."

He shook, visibly shook, his anger was so potent. Anders' hand shot out and clenched around the elf's throat faster than he could have anticipated, yet he merely held him, so Fenris sucked in a breath and merely let his hands fall to his sides. "I _love_ her where as you toy with her emotions and use her body against her. If you so much as – "

"Let him go!" The shout came from behind Anders and they both looked to see who stood there; a panting, sweaty, Hawke stood there. She was out of breath and in her house clothes, though barefoot, as if she had been in a hurry. As Fenris looked at her, he knew she had chased after Anders after he had no doubt stormed from her home. "Let him go," she said again, this time softly, a pleading look in her gaze that made Fenris want to scowl; he was more than able to handle the abomination. He didn't need her help.

His knee bent and he shoved it into the mage's gut. Anders grunted and lost his hold on Fenris' throat, half doubling over just before the elf's foot found his hip and sent him scrambling back with a well-placed kick. Much to his irritation, Hawke ran forward to catch the abomination, helping him stand steady before she turned her eyes to him.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, almost helplessly.

"Keep your platitudes," he snarled, more harshly than he intended, and she visibly winced.

"Don't you talk to her like that!" Anders growled, stepping forward again yet only to stop as Hawke grasped at his arm. His chest heaved as he struggled to control himself, Hawke stepping up to press her pale hand there.

"It's alright, Anders," she sighed softly.

"It's not!" Fenris watched with narrowed eyes as Anders' hostile glance fell to Hawke's face. "Why do you not just be done with him! It is not okay! He is no more than a beast and if you keep trying to reach out to him, he will tear you apart!"

Fenris growled and he stalked forward, but Hawke stepped between him and the mage, her arms outstretched and eyes frantically searching his face. She trembled and he was vaguely aware that she was frightened, of what he didn't know. Him or the abomination, or both.

"Stop this," she said as her chest heaved.

He wanted to lean down and kiss those impertinent lips, even as the abomination watched. How victorious would he feel when Hawke melted into his arms in front of her apostate lover? He scowled and leaned down; her body froze, stiffened, but she didn't retreat.

"Keep your mage on a tighter leash," he hissed, the words falling across her lips in a harsh breath, "or else I will put him down like the mongrel he is." He watched as a volume of emotions flickered across her features; fear, hurt, anger, sadness, before her face settled on cold. He smirked bitterly and turned, stalked back into his home, and slammed the door on her and her lover, despite the way he was screaming inwardly to go back.

_He refused._

* * *

Hawke rested against Anders' back as he carried her home. He had refused to let her walk home with no footwear on when it had been his fault she had chased out without them. The situation kept replaying itself in her head and she couldn't help the angry tears that built in her eyes in response. She hadn't intended to tell Anders of that night, all those months ago, but she had woke, crying out Fenris' name whilst in tears. Anders was sitting up, a strange expression on his face, watching her.

He had then told her, very soberly, that she had been talking in her sleep and proceeded to tell her exactly what it was she had been saying amongst her tossing and turning on their bed.

"_You're right, Fenris, it __was __**just**__ sex. I was foolish to think a __**slave **__could think it was anything else."_

She had little choice but to explain those words away, but as she looked into his tired expression, his almost hurt eyes, she couldn't help but be honest with him. What she hadn't expected was for Anders' eyes to flare that eerie blue as he jumped out of the bed and swept on his coat. Her please fell on deaf ears as he left, determination in his every step – and she knew exactly where he had been headed.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, her breath falling against cheek from where she rested her head beside his own as they walked.

He sighed softly and leaned to press his head against hers, hands squeezing reassuringly on her thighs where he held her to keep her firmly on his back. "Don't apologize, Hawke." He said the softly low, before sighing again. "I should apologize for letting my anger control me…I just can't bear the thought of him hurting you any more than he already has."

"I know," she chuckled. "But I _am_ a grown woman, Anders. I think I can handle him."

He stopped with a grunt. "That's the thing, Hawke. You can't handle him, not if he was determined to turn against you. I…I want to protect you and no matter how hard I try, I can't seem to."

"Anders…"

"Never mind." He half shrugged, careful of her, and started walking again. "Let's just get you back to bed and forget about this."

She pressed her lips together but nodded, agreeing with him albeit reluctantly; she wanted to forget it as much as he, but she had a feeling Fenris wouldn't soon forget that her lover had attacked him in his own home. All the time she had spent, thinking of what to say to him, of how to approach the idea of reforming an uneasy friendship with the elf – it was all gone in that instant he'd hissed those words in her face. She'd seen the desire there, lurking in his eyes, but the rest…the rest she had seen was more proof that the chasm between them was far deeper than she had ever imagined.


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: **More thanks for reviews, alerts, and favorites; they totally make my day. I don't normally write this much, or this frequently, but this idea has bitten me and I just want to work on it, like, a lot. So enjoy!

_Disclaimer: Bioware can have their toys back when I am done. *nodnod*_

* * *

"Broody is following up on the information that crazy mage gave him about his sister," Varric commented over a game of Diamond Back with Hawke and Aveline, nearly a year and a half after that night Hawke had been forced to place herself between Anders and Fenris.

Things had been…docile, after that, at least on the surface. Silently they all seethed inside, for their various reasons. Except for matters that needed urgent attention, Anders and Hawke and Fenris usually avoided being within vicinity of each other; again, for various reasons. Hawke's reasons were…well, complicated, trying to balance the peace and happiness of their group above her own; she cared for Anders, but a part of her heart still pined for the elf who'd turned his back on her. Why…she wasn't certain, not entirely. She didn't want to believe that she loved Fenris, but being realistic, for all intense and purposes, she was. Why else could she not forget him three _years_ after their _one_ night together?

"He and I haven't exactly been on good terms as of late," Hawke said dryly as she folded.

"He hasn't been on good terms with anyone as of late," Aveline grumbled under her breath as she added a sovereign to the betting pool. Varric matched her and she tapped a gloved hand on the table, contemplating. "Can't have a conversation with that blighted elf these days."

"Spurned lovers tend to be bitter," Varric chuckled.

"I did not spurn him." Hawke frowned and took a gulp of the ale in her mug. Varric merely shrugged then grinned as Aveline laid out her hand; when he laid out his, she cursed and watched him scoop up his winnings.

"You must have done something, Hawke. If I even mention your name, I swear to the Maker he nearly loses it." It was Aveline's turn to partake of the ale. "Donnic tried to bring you up once. That did _not_ go well."

Hawke sighed and leaned back in her chair. "Our last conversation didn't exactly end on a good note."

"Oh, do tell," Varric encouraged and the gleam in his eye made her wary; just what the dwarf needed, more fodder for his over-the-top tales of her.

"He and Anders got into it – and no, I am giving you details, Varric, so don't even ask." She took another gulp of her drink. "He essentially told me to get lost…so I did. The only times I have seen him were those two times we met to discuss things."

"Ah yes, and I do believe I mentioned something or another about cutting the tension in the room with Bianca's help."

"Aye, he never did say a word did he?" Aveline slowly stood from the table. "Matters between the Templars and the mages aren't going away. Be ready, Hawke – I think we are about to become busy once more."

"Oh joy," Hawke rolled her eyes; she only knew all too well how things were going. She and Anders spent hours talking about the growing lunacy of the Knight-Commander, but something about the look in his eyes when he spoke of how 'it would all be over soon' made her uneasy. He was around more than he had been, but he was always tired. His manifesto was all over her home – where it had once made sense, most of what she read these days was mad ramblings of injustice, and the rebellion that would force the world to see all mages as free equals. His journal, which she had ashamedly peaked in, mentioned increasing black outs that he could not account for when he was helping those of the mage underground resistance. The man she had come to care for was slowly fading away, into a shell of a man who lived for nothing other than retribution and vengeance. She knew what was happening, even if she and Anders could not admit it to each other – Justice was no longer something that escaped when Anders was angry, but was a force that was beginning to assert itself in his day to day life.

Aveline said her farewells and departed, leaving Varric to study Hawke's features carefully.

"It's killing you, isn't it?" He asked in a surprising moment of subdued seriousness – it wasn't often he took that tone, and he only ever did it with her. Over the last few years, the dwarf had become her best friend and, as a best friend, he did have his moments of genuine worry. Even so, it was still odd, she had to admit.

"Tch, you'd think all of these years playing Diamond Back with you, my bluffing would have improved." Hawke sighed and rubbed a hand over her face. "I know I am with Anders. I care for him, I really do, but I can't forget about Fenris, no matter how hard I try."

"Broody is certainly compelling."

Hawke chuckled and shook her head. "Can't argue with you there," she sighed almost wistfully.

* * *

That talk with Varric was why she stood outside of Fenris' manor later that night – at least, that's what she decided. She couldn't admit to herself that she _wanted_ to be here; Maker, but it had been so long since she'd heard his voice. Even if this turned into another argument, she just needed to hear his voice. Her fool heart demanded it, in its traitorous way that it ached and raced whenever she thought of him – how she wished she could cast a spell on it so she could love another. Part of her knew that loving Fenris would only lead to an undesirable end, and yet, Anders' words rang in her head – _this will end in disaster_. As the days passed, she was slowly beginning to realize he hadn't been lying.

Something was coming, something she knew would change the entire foundation of her life and it frightened her to her very core knowing Justice was going to be at the forefront of it.

She scowled, pushing the ominous feeling away – her imagination was getting the better of her. Booted feet brought her to the door where she rapped her knuckles against the wood, heart racing enough to make her pleasantly light-headed and tingly all over.

This was such a bad idea, she admonished.

The door opened and she trembled to see Fenris standing before her, dressed in nothing more than his breeches. Her eyes were drawn to his markings where they traveled down his chest in the semblance of a dalish tattoo, disappearing into the band of his pants to travel over his legs and, Maker yes, even his privates. It had been so long since she'd seen so much of him and she instinctively wet her lips, watching as his scowl slowly transformed into a look of feral desire. His eyes darkened as his hands clenched, no doubt in an effort to keep himself under control.

"What can I do for you, Hawke?" His voice had deepened and it slid over her like cool silk, making her tremble. His lips twitched.

"Fenris – " Maker preserve her, but was that breathless, nearly wistful sigh of his name really _her _voice? "It's…it's been awhile," she finished lamely.

"That it has."

They lapsed into silence as she fumbled for some explanation as to why she had ventured to his home, especially at this time of night. She inwardly groaned; it was nearly impossible to think coherently when she was staring at his half exposed body. _Definitely _had been a bad idea to come here, she admitted to herself. She was being foolish and playing a very dangerous game, one in which she would not be the only one hurt if things progressed.

"I'm sorry," she mumbled and took a step back, but his hand shot out and grasped her wrist to keep her from retreating entirely. She shuddered with pleasure at the feel of his flesh against hers', even if it was just fingers to wrist. "This was a bad idea," this time it was mumbled aloud and his eyes narrowed thoughtfully. With a groan, he yanked on her wrist, causing her to stumble forward into his chest as his other arm snaked around her slim waist.

"What does your mage think of you being here?" Fenris drawled as his head lowered, his words falling over her lips on a breath as they parted on a stuttered gasp.

She visibly flinched, her teeth biting down on her lower lip; Anders knew nothing of her visit here – he hadn't even been at her home when she had returned. This would be the fourth day since she had seen him last – and damn Varric for having brought up Fenris, or she was confident that she would have been able to resist the urge to come here. This wasn't right, but what she had done in going to Anders' initially, that hadn't been right either. Maker forgive her, but she didn't want to pull away from Fenris, not after longing for him for these past three years – was it so wrong to want him, when he had been the first?

"Fenris this isn't a good idea – " Her words died out slowly as his head dipped low enough for his lips to brush hers' ever so slightly. Her breathing hitched and she trembled, his hold on her wrist tightening as she felt an answering shudder in him.

"You haunt my dreams and – to the Void – I cannot stop thinking about you," he mumbled the words against her lips and she nearly whimpered; how many times had she dreamt of words such as this, ones so similar to those of their one night of unbridled passion. Sex with Anders was pleasant, and exciting, but only Fenris made her feel wanton and, at the same time, sexy – like she was temptation embodied and he was helpless against her. It was intoxicating.

"Fenris…" her magic thrummed with her arousal and it pulled at him, making him moan and pull her tighter against him. His markings lit up and he crushed his lips to hers, an answering moan following suit but this time from her own lips. He took advantage, sliding in his tongue to battle with hers in a duel that was all too achingly familiar. His scent teased her senses to the point where she was nearly giddy, her body melting pliantly into his; it was the sign he seemed to be waiting for, using the arm around her waist to lift her against his chest. He moved backwards into his home and kicked the door shut, kissing her still as he carried her that way up to his room, half stumbling whenever their kiss became deep and heated.

She felt her round bottom hit the edge of the table. He bent and swept off the offending assortment of bottles and dishware that had been on the wooden surface; wood and glass clattered to the ground as he lay her back, bracing himself with a palm on either side of her. Her hands trembled as she pressed them to his chest, the magic thrumming in her fingertips teasing the markings as she traced them, a shudder wracking his entire frame.

"I have remembered your touch as if it were yesterday," he groaned, "but the memories cannot compare."

His hands moved to her thighs, squeezing, before he began to pluck at the clasps that held her robes shut. Before long they were undone and he was spreading the cloth open to reveal her flesh beneath. His tongue wet his lips and she bit her lower lip, sliding her arms free from the robe so that the golden wool simply lay under her. He seemed to grow impatient, his hand finding her breast band and simply ripping from her to toss it aside so he could lean his head down and taking a pink nipple into his mouth; she gasped, a loud moan following. As he kept himself orally occupied with her breasts, his hand slid down to push the smalls from her, his fingers finding her already wet and hot for him. He groaned against her breast as he pressed two fingers inside of her center, the hot sheath tight and like a brand around them. She cried out and arched her body like a bow, her hips unashamedly rolling against his hand as he began to pump his fingers in a hard, fast, rhythm that had her mind reeling out of control.

He pushed her to a climax, white sparks behind her eyes exploding as she nearly wept; he didn't give her time to recover, undoing the ties of his breeches and shoving them down so that his hard cock was able to rub against her. He gripped himself, rubbing the head of his cock against her sensitive nub of pleasure as his other rolled her breast and pinched her nipple. His chest heaved, marks glowing intensely with his desire as he watched her writhe on the table with pleasure each time he brushed her clit with his cock. Eyes nearly wild, he removed his hand and shoved himself deep within her; he growled, head hanging, and she cried out, back arching. Her hands found his arms, her nails scoring their marks over his flesh as her head fell back with a long, deep moan.

"Fenris, oh Maker – please, move." It was killing her that he hadn't moved, merely remained seated within her. He took her hands and pinned them above her head, his lips finding hers to kiss her passionately, tongues slick as they caressed one another.

"Say it again," he panted against her lips. "Say my name."

"_Fenris_." He groaned in response and pulled his hips away, before he shoved them back, his brands flickering as pleasure overwhelmed them both; he couldn't hold it back any longer, and he set a brutal pace, his flesh slapping against hers as he began to thrust hard and fast. The passion had been fanned for so long, and denied for so long, it didn't take long of that rhythm to send her spiraling into an orgasm. At the feel of her tight around him like a vice, he growled and thrust, faster, harder, before he dropped his head and bit where her neck and shoulder joined as he thrust one last time – cock twitching within her heat as it spilled his seed deep. She shuddered beneath him as the pleasure subsided; reluctantly, he released her skin, but smirked with satisfaction at the mark he'd left there.

They tried to regain their breath, sharing a slow, almost intimate kiss. Her fingers trailed through his hair before he pulled completely from her. He pulled up his pants and readjusted, while she shut her robe – her breast band was a lost cause – and righted herself.

When he looked at her next, he frowned.

Hawke was staring at him, her chest heaving and he could have sworn there was panic in her pale blue gaze. She bit her lip, casting her eyes to her booted feet as they hovered slightly above the floor.

"I'm sorry."

"_I'm sorry. I feel like such a fool."_

She trembled and Fenris tried to reach out for her, but she ducked away from him and moved to stand slightly away from him, almost angled as if she meant to run. Her eyes found his, wide, and again, he thought he saw panic. She was regretting this, wasn't she? Like he had, all those years ago.

"This…this never should have happened."

_"This…this never should have happened." He mustered the words in a last ditch effort to try and right the mistakes, his mistakes, that had been made this night. His gut clenching, he turned and walked away from her, knowing full well she watched every his step until he was gone._

"Hawke, wait – " He reached out for her again, panic beginning to flit through his own eyes; she couldn't have come here only to leave, to turn her back on him, and walk out – could she?

She shook her head, took a step back. "I'm sorry. I don't know…I was…Oh Maker, what have I done?" She groaned and hung her head. "I'm sorry." She whispered the words and fled. He heard the front door slam as she bolted through it.

He frowned, his chest tight; was this how she had felt that night when he had walked out on her? To the Void – what had he done?

* * *

**A/N: **I did a double update since I may not update this tomorrow, as I plan on working on the next piece for 'Torturing A Prince'. So I hope you enjoyed! All reviews are welcome, so if you have a moment, please do.


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N**: Thanks again for the reviews and love, it means so much! ANGST all over in this one, so enjoy.

_Disclaimer: Don't own it, Bioware does – but this idea was the result of insistent plot bunnies._

* * *

The walk to the estate seemed to take an eternity, her mind caught in a chaotic whirl of emotions; anxiety, fear, hurt, dismay, and almost disgustingly, there was optimistic hope. She had thought whatever had been between her and Fenris was finished, that he had not wanted her. Tonight had shown her that he hadn't been able to forget her just as she had not been able to forget him – but that was the problem, wasn't it? She had given into temptation and betrayed someone who did not deserve it. Maker, how could she face Anders after what she had done?

It was quiet when she arrived home. She hesitated briefly at the door to her bedroom, hand shaking as it hovered over the handle.

What could she say? Would he know? Would he forgive her? – so many questions, to which she had not a single answer.

She opened the door and slid inside, shutting it behind her as quietly as she'd opened it. The fire she'd lit in the hearth was burning low and the faint light was enough for her to see that her bed was empty. This would be the fifth night she hadn't seen him. Every day that passed seemed to draw him further and further away from her; he was changing before her eyes and she couldn't do a thing to help him. Every time she tried, he'd simply smile and say, 'I love you – please trust me'; words she used to crave were quickly becoming ones she hated hearing.

A soft sigh slid from her as she sat on the edge of her bed and removed her boots. "I care about him," she mumbled as she rubbed her feet. "But he has to understand I just don't trust blindly." With a bitter laugh, she lay back on the bed. She scrubbed a trembling hand over her face. "Who am I kidding? I have abused his trust far worse than he has ever abused mine…"

Despite her best attempt, her eyes brimmed with insistent tears. "He'll never forgive me…neither of them will; this is all my fault." She rolled onto her side, tears sliding across her face to fall and form dark blotches against the maroon of her covers. For once she could be grateful that Anders was being so distant, for she feared coming face to face with him harboring her secret betrayal. One she found she could not bury. Even now she could feel Fenris' hands on her flesh, his lips on hers, his cock thrusting deeply within her; it had been a mistake, one that tormented her in a number of ways. Now more than ever, she had to steady her path and stop this.

She only hoped she had the willpower to do just that.

* * *

Fenris never came to her after that, instead he seemed to withdraw. Anders seemed to as well, disappearing for days on end, then weeks. The two had pulled away from her, in their own ways. Weeks passed, then finally, months. She withdrew into duties as Champion, attending banquets, and helping wherever she could whenever she could. Only Sebastian knew of what she had done; she had remembered what he told Fenris that, should he need to confess, he was allowed to hear confessions. She had gone to the Chantry and confessed to him; he had frowned, reached a hand out to stroke her hair, and told her to pray – that the Maker had a plan for all of them and in time her path would become clear.

One afternoon, she returned home from the argument in Hightown between Orsino and Meredith(she'd adamantly refused to take sides and had said a thanks to the Maker when Elthina had arrived, though inwardly she raged over how nothing could seem to be done without the Champion of Kirkwall), to find Anders waiting just outside of her room for her; a part of her was happy to see him, the other anxious and wary. Over the months she had decided that she didn't want to hurt him and the secret of her betrayal would remain with her. He didn't deserve the pain her honesty would bestow upon him.

"Where have you been?" She asked as she came to stand before him. "It's been months, Anders."

His amber gaze wasn't as warm as she remembered, and he looked infinitely tired. His cheeks looked gaunt and she wondered if he'd lost weight. He gave a soft smile, but it didn't reach his eyes. "I am sorry, Hawke. I am afraid I got caught up in things."

"Resistance things, I take it." She sighed, drawing a hand through her hair.

"Whether or not you like to acknowledge it, Meredith is insane. Every day it gets worse. I am just trying to help mages who cannot help themselves." He reached out and stroked a hand over her hair.

"I know, Anders, I just wish you would let me help." When he started to speak, she shook her head and interrupted, "aye, I know – it's for my own good. You're trying to protect me. You love me, and I need to trust you."

He chuckled and withdrew his hand. "I guess I have been saying it a lot but you have always been the stubborn sort." She scrunched up her nose and huffed. She reached into her pocket and withdrew a key, holding it out to him. "What's this?"

"It's the key to the basement passage to Darktown; I know you've used it before with my invitations, but you live here Anders. If you need a quick escape, use the key and come here. I _can _help you." She was adamant as she pressed the key into his palm.

"You..." Anders' smile was real this time and she was pleased to see he wasn't so far gone she couldn't make him smile. "Your support has meant the world to me, Hawke. I…thank you." She returned his smile and turned, to head toward her room, but he reached out and caught her arm, stopping her. _Like Fenris had that night. _She bit the inside of her cheek, and looked back at him expectantly. "I…I do need your help with something, Hawke. We need to discuss something somewhere…private. Will you come by my clinic?"

Her heart raced within her chest; did he know about Fenris? Hesitantly she nodded. "I will meet you there tomorrow. Will you stay tonight?"

He smiled and brought her to him, kissing her almost fiercely, melding their mouths together and heatedly mingling his tongue with hers. It was an intense kiss, one the two of them had never shared before and even as it warmed her pleasantly, it frightened her. He kissed her almost as if it would be the last time. Slowly, he pulled away. "I can't tonight, I'm sorry." He cupped her face and kissed the tip of her nose. "I will see you tomorrow." He turned and left then, her eyes watching every step with an unpleasant frown on her lips. Something was wrong, of that she had no doubt, and it frightened her to know she had no idea of what it was. It was unlike her to feel as powerless as she did now.

* * *

That ominous feeling persisted throughout the night, making it nearly impossible for her to sleep. As a mage, her dreams were often invaded by demons wishing to seduce her into one of their bargains, using her emotions, dreams, and desires against her; this night she dreamt of no demon, but of a spirit – a vengeful blue spirit that tore apart all of Kirkwall while she watched on helplessly, unable to raise a hand against it for fear of harming the body that harbored it. She woke in a sweat, her heart pounding like a drum in her ears as she tried to calm herself; it was a dream, nothing more, yet a sliver of her persisted that it was a dream that could very well come to be in reality.

Sliding from the bed, she had Orana fetch a bowl of cool water and set it on her desk. Her trembling hands splashed in onto her face in an effort to help calm her nerves. It was Anders' words the day before that had riled her imaginings, nothing more. She would go to his clinic and have her fears put to rest.

She gathered her robes and dressed herself, trying to keep her thoughts centered on a more productive path. There was no use in dwelling in pessimism – the ever growing war between Meredith and Orsino, the growing tensions between Templar and Mage, the lack of a viscount; there was little to nothing she could do, yet they insisted on dragging her – kicking and screaming – into all of it. The best she could do was try to be optimistic…even if there was nothing really to be optimistic about.

The sun was high as she left her manor, though the clouds played a game of hide and seek with the luminescent rays of light. Her first stop seemed to be the Chantry; why that was, she wasn't certain. Sebastian was standing near the door, much to her surprise. Usually she would always find him in deep conversation with the Grand Cleric.

"Ah, Hawke!" He smiled as he greeted her.

"Sebastian. It's good to see you." She smiled in return, and then glanced away almost anxiously.

"Are you faring well?" He frowned and knocked a sun-kissed knuckle against her chin so she would return her gaze to him. "You look…"

"I didn't sleep well." She shrugged her shoulders and stepped back. He pursed his lips, sapphire eyes watching almost intently, before he nodded.

"There is something I wished to speak with you about."

That had her curious. "Oh?"

"After your confession…Fenris came to me." Her heart clenched hard within her chest and her breathing hitched. "What you confessed, it was meant to stay between us, so I did not indulge him of our meeting. However, he was particularly distressed, Hawke. I believe what happened between the two of you that night made him realize what pain he caused you three years ago."

"Sebastian…oh Maker, this is getting so complicated." She paced away from him, before back, showing her discontent and agitation. "I feel like I've led them both on. That was never my intention."

"I know that better than anyone, lass." He took her hand to stop her furious pacing. "It will all work out in due time. I wanted to tell you this because I think he needs your help, whether or not the stubborn elf would ever admit it."

Her eyes jumped to his face, anxious. "Did something happen to him?"

"Not yet."

"What do you mean 'not yet'?" The words were snapped out more harshly than she intended, but he didn't seem to take offense. Instead he just gave her an understanding smile and a nod before he continued.

"He's been talking to Aveline about his sister, following up on the information you two got from his master's apprentice – Hadriana, I believe her name was?" She nodded. "Aye, well, Aveline told me that his sister is in Kirkwall and Fenris has been putting off going to her, for fear of it being a trap set by his master."

"Danarius?" She felt her heart drop to her toes. "_Danarius _is here?"

"That is what he is assuming, aye."

"I…" She swallowed thickly; she dreaded seeing Fenris again, not only because of what had occurred the last time they'd met, but also because she loved him. It hit her like a splash of cold water – she had thought herself in love with him but now, with his life threatened, there was no doubt. _Steady now, deep breathes – it'll all work out. _She had to keep reminding herself of that, or she was sure her turbulent feelings would resign her to a fate of lonely madness.

"He is as confused as you, Hawke. I do not think he will ask you for help unless you go to him." Trembling, she nodded; there was no way she could leave him to face his old master alone, no matter _what _had passed between them. That didn't mean that she wasn't afraid to face him.

"I would never turn my back on a friend," her voice trembled slightly on the word friend, but she cleared her throat and continued on as if it had never happened. "Anders asked that I come by the clinic. Grab Aveline and meet me there?" He nodded and she turned, to go, but stopped at the door. "Thank you for telling me, Sebastian."

* * *

"Thank you for coming, Hawke." Anders greeted her as she walked into the clinic, though she was admittedly half distracted as she did so; she wanted to give her lover her full attention, but what Sebastian had confided in her had her thinking of other things…or other people, rather. She nodded and smiled, setting her staff against the wall – he had greeted her as 'Hawke'…he hadn't done that in a long time.

"I came alone, but Sebastian went to get Aveline and they'll be meeting us here." He frowned but nodded. He walked toward the clinic doors and shut them, before walking back toward her with a sigh. He looked upset, she realized. Or nervous. "Anders? What's wrong?"

"I have been researching Tevinter rituals and I believe I may have found a way to separate Justice and myself. They were trying to discover a way of separation that didn't require beheading." Her eyes widened while he looked at her, strangely calm. Her mind was instantly drawn to the dream she'd had, of Justice tearing apart Kirkwall while she watched on. Of all the blood on her skin, the smell of smoke burning bodies. She shuddered and bit back the bile that threatened to come up with the recollection of her dream. "I thought you would want to be a part of this."

"I-I do, I'm sorry, I didn't sleep well last night." She shook it off and bit her lip thoughtfully. "What do you need to do?"

"I am only missing a few ingredients for the potion."

"That's it? No virgin sacrifices? No blood magic?" She was skeptical at best; he had once said that when he and Justice had merged, they had become one and the _only _way to separate them would be his death. "No ritual that involves needless murder?"

His lips twitched and he couldn't help the chuckle that slipped free from him. "I forget how imaginative you get. No – just mix the ingredients into a potion and drink. Then…poof, no more Justice."

"I…I believe you." Something passed in his eyes and she tried to decipher what it was, but he glanced away and whatever it had been was gone in an instant. "Where are we going then, Anders?"

* * *

It took most of the day to gather what Anders needed and after having traipsed through not only the Bone Pit, but the _sewers_ as well, Hawke was in a pretty foul mood. Those happened to be her least two favorite places, save the Gallows, and _maybe _Uncle Gamlen's home in Lowtown. Sebastian had voiced her doubts throughout, but Anders had stuck to his words – that it would in the end be for the greater good and that Justice would be free. Her doubts refused to leave her alone, no matter what he said. In fact, the more he repeated it, the more they nagged. _Something_ was wrong, she knew it almost instinctively.

Her fears only got worse once they returned to his clinic. He asked Sebastian and Aveline to remain outside while he spoke to Hawke. "There is one last thing I need to ask of you, my love." He said as he approached her, taking her hands; he had been distant all day and yet _now _he chose to warm up to her?

Eyes wary, she asked, "and that would be what?"

"I need to get into the Chantry undetected. I need you to distract the Grand Cleric, but I cannot tell you why."

"You need me to do _what_?" She yanked her hands away and stepped back. "Why in the Maker would I need to do that? What should I even talk to her about? "

"The weather? No, better yet, talk to her about Meredith, give her one last chance to see things from our point of view. Please, Hawke." His features were calm and collected, even as he pleaded. She wanted to help him, she did, but something was yelling at her not to, that this was a bad idea and they would all pay for it in some way. His words – one last chance – echoed in her mind.

"Anders…Please, for the love of the Maker, do not say _'trust me'_ or I may just lose it." She laughed almost bitterly, raking a hand through her hair as she paced away from him. "I have trusted you for a long time now while you have kept me in the dark. This…I don't know if I can do this."

"It is for the best, Hawke. Love, please, I really do need you to trust me. You love me, don't you? You would do it if Fenris asked, or if anyone other than I did. Why can't you do it for me?" He leveled his gaze on her as she turned to face him, anger beginning to simmer in her.

"Fine," she snapped the words. "But I won't forget that you used my feelings for you to practically blackmail me into helping you."

It was in that instant, she felt their relationship warp into something different. That he could use her feelings for her as a way to get her to do what he wanted was foreign to her. He would never had done this three years ago. He would have asked her, and never pushed, and certainly never had to resort to what he had this day. Did Anders really love her, or was he using her now? In that moment, she wasn't certain.

* * *

"There you are. I was looking for you everywhere." Anders found her where she had been talking to the Grand Cleric. Despite his wishes, she had never brought up the mages with Elthina, instead had just asked her for her blessing and asked how she was doing; she respected Elthina's stance. Hawke, too, wanted there to be a middle ground – there _had _to be a way to pacify both the mages and Meredith. Anything to avoid what war would do to all the innocents in the city.

Elthina glanced from Hawke to Anders, her eyes sad. "You are troubled, my child. I hope your visit here has laid a balm over your restless soul."

"Grand Cleric," Anders nodded his head in greeting, but simply took Hawke's hand and pulled her away.

Once out of the chantry, Hawke took her hand from his. The walk back to the clinic was a long, _very _silent one. When they reached it, she promptly slammed the door behind her and crossed her arms across her chest. "Are you going to tell me what you did?" She snapped out; she was no longer believing the lie about the potion.

"You have no idea how good it feels for a spirit to fulfill its function. The waiting it over, I am finally seeking Justice." He sighed, an almost wistful smile on his lips – one that frightened her.

"Tell me what you did." She trembled.

"You are Kirkwall's Champion, love. You can better aid our cause in that role than aligning yourself too closely to me here."

"Every time you refuse to tell me, I think of crazier things," she laughed out, almost bitterly; something was very wrong here. She could _feel _it.

He touched her face gently and she resisted the urge to pull away in her anger. "Do not despair for me, love. This is what I was _born _to do. The war _will _happen." She did jerk away now, stepping back from him and shaking her head. "The clock is ticking down – it will be midnight soon."

"Anders…"

He came toward her again, and cupped her face. "I want to tell you now – I love you. You have stood by me when I have given you every reason to turn away. Just, please, remember…whatever happens…" he shuddered and pressed his forehead to hers. "I just wanted you to know that."

"Anders…" she trembled and bit back frustrated, angry tears. Her hands clenched at her sides. "Why are you talking like this?"

He sighed and drew back from her, pacing away while she tried to keep herself together. "He'll still be here, you know – Justice – long after you and I are gone. It doesn't mean the same thing to a spirit. He'll just go back to the Fade."

"I care about you, Anders," she choked out the words, her dream resurfacing. She had to stop whatever he'd started, she had to.

"You…" He faced her again and gave her a sad smile. "You are the most important thing in my life, but some things matter more than my life, more than either of us. I'm sorry."

"You're wrong, Anders!" She snapped the words out, her breathing harsh – Maker, she was panicking, wasn't she? "There is nothing more important than love, than caring for someone!"

He stepped back away from her, dropping his eyes to the floor. A resigned smile crossed his lips. "Remember all those years ago? I told you I would break your heart, love. Just know…just know that it breaks mine to do it."

She visibly shook with the force of her emotions; fear, anxiety, anger, betrayal – after everything he had helped her get over, helped her through, he was betraying her in the end, like all the others. "Anders…"

"I was hoping we'd find a better way but…Justice and Vengeance are too intertwined. I can't tell one from the other any longer. You have been the one shining light in my life. Never, _never_, blame yourself for what will happen." His last words were almost a plea, but she couldn't hear them. She was lost in her dream, the smell of smoke strong in her nostrils, the sensation of burning, Justice's blue eyes staring at her as he laughed maniacally.

"There is always a better way!" She suddenly screamed, raking her hands through her hair. Tears were rolling down her cheeks now, eyes wild as she looked at him. "You will incite war, Anders! Many will die because of what we've done here! Everything, _everything_, I have worked for – _you_ have worked for – will mean nothing if you go through with this!"

"Love please…" He took a step toward her. "I cannot stray from my path. You need to trust me."

"I have trusted you! _I have! _You leave me in the dark, you ask me for things that you know I would not do if I truly knew what it was that you were doing!" She shook her head and retreated a few steps, her body shaking with the force of the sobs she was suppressing. "You said you loved me, Anders, but you have used me, as they all have. I _trusted_ you!"

"I do love you!" He asserted, reaching for her, but she ducked away from him.

"No, no, you don't. You used me and what I have done here _will _be my fault, and I will end up blaming myself for this."

"_**You try to divert us from our path." **_The spirit was there then, glaring at her in a way that she could have thought herself his enemy.

"Your path is nothing but violence and needless bloodshed. There is no justice in this!"

"_**This is the only way! They must be shown that mages will no longer be treated as slaves. You are one of them, but do not defend your people as you should!" **_

"This…this is all your fault!" Hawke cried, taking a step toward him, her fists surrounded by barely controllable sparks of magic. "Give me back Anders, demon!"

"_**I am no demon!" **_He flashed his light at her and she flinched, but then he blinked and it was only Anders standing there. He looked at her strangely. "What…what was I saying?"

"You…you don't remember?" Her voice trembled.

"Maker, I am having more black outs." He groaned and rubbed his hands over his face. "Get away from me, Hawke. I love you, but I cannot stand to hurt you any longer. I have made you do something I will never be able to forgive myself for. Please go."

"Anders please…" she took a step toward him.

"GO!" He yelled the words at her, such an uncharacteristic gesture from him that it frightened her. Her heart breaking all over again and with tears streaming down her cheeks, she fled the clinic, paying no mind to Sebastian and Aveline as they called out for her.


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: **Thank you for the very sweet reviews. It makes me smile! And is a great motivational booster, as I go through my self-conscious points where I am unsure of my writing and even hate it. XD So thank-you!

_Disclaimer: Bioware._

* * *

Any person who dared to tread foot into the Hawke estate – even her Templar brother – were turned away by Bodahn. Any who dared to press for entrance beyond that were very rudely told, through the bedroom door, to get lost by Hawke. Carver was the only one who dared to ignore even that and he had regretted it every moment since. He had never seen his sister in such a state. She had been curled up in her bed, covers drawn tightly around her like armor, tissues scattered all over, eyes red and puffy, cheeks flushed; it was obvious she had been crying, and a while at that. As soon as he'd stepped into the room, she hid her face and just begged him to leave. And he had without a word, feeling awkward; the two had never gotten along and he felt out of place, unable to help her, so he'd just done as she'd asked.

Then, he had gone to Sebastian. His sister had always had a surprising friendship with the exiled prince; Carver felt if anyone could help her, Sebastian could.

He was in the Chantry that afternoon when he went to go find him, but he wasn't alone as he'd expected. The prince sat in one the pews with Fenris, and the two were conversing about what Carver couldn't hear. He wanted to turn and leave, but he didn't want his sister to suffer, despite how much attitude and problems he himself gave her.

"Sebastian," he cleared his throat when he stopped a few feet away from them. Fenris' eyes shot to him quickly and narrowed slightly, but he didn't say anything even as Sebastian stood and walked toward him.

"Carver! It's good to see you." He smiled and Carver nodded. "You and your sister should visit the Chantry a little more frequently. The Maker has room at his side for all of his children."

"Aye," Carver cleared his throat, glancing away a little uneasily. "My sister is the reason I have come."

"Did something happen?" Sebastian's worried tone brought Carver's gaze back to his face; the prince's brows were drawn together tightly, his lips pressed into a tight frown.

"I am…certain there is something, but as to what, I can't say." He shrugged his shoulders. "She has had Bodahn turn everyone away. When I went upstairs anyway, she yelled at me to get lost. I went in anyway."

"That doesn't surprise me." Sebastian commented dryly, making Carver shake his head with a slight smile.

"She has been holed up in there for days, wrapped up in her bed. It was obvious she has been crying. Bodahn says she won't eat, she won't see anyone, and I have no bloody clue as to what is going on. Last I knew she was with that mage lover of hers and she was happy…or so I thought." He sighed. A quick intake of breathe had his gaze settling on the elf, who almost appeared stricken before he managed to compose himself to scowl as he always did.

"Ah…" Sebastian sighed. "She and Anders got into a bit of an argument after our last excursion. I haven't found out anything other than he had been lying to her."

"Why didn't you tell me?" Fenris growled, the sound having them both looking at him with brows raised.

"It is Hawke's business, Fenris. It isn't my place to be spreading it around. She wouldn't like that and she has put a great deal of trust in me. I wouldn't betray that." Sebastian said and the look he was giving the elf seemed to frustrate him. "If you want to know, you should go talk to Hawke."

"I…can't." He said, so low Carver barely caught it.

"Maker, Fenris." Sebastian sighed and walked toward him. "She has wanted nothing more than for you to be at her side, Fenris, but you were too stubborn and too selfish to realize that."

"I know that," Fenris bit out angrily, his hands fisted at his sides. Carver could have sworn that behind the anger, the elf looked frightened.

"Then go talk to her, you daft man, or I will do so myself."

Fenris snapped his mouth shut and frowned tightly, green eyes narrowed on Sebastian. Carver fidgeted, feeling suddenly awkward to be here. "One of you please talk to her, I, uh, have to get back to the Gallows."

* * *

Fenris paced in front of the hearth, his feet following the well-worn pattern they were so accustomed to. The scowl on his face so intense he could feel the beginnings of an ache in his temples, but he stubbornly pushed it off. He was stalling and he knew it; he couldn't think of going to her without feeling anxious, angry, desperate, and pathetic. He'd been thinking of her for so long, but had – through some miracle – kept himself from going to her over these long months. Even when he needed her help, he'd gone to Sebastian knowing the prince would pass it on to her. He had never contacted her directly, or gone to her home.

They last they had spoken was _that_ night. He'd felt so disgusted with himself when she'd fled; it was almost a mirror of their night nearly three years ago, but instead _she _had run, claiming it a mistake. He laughed almost bitterly when he thought of it. This anger, this pathetic ache in his chest, the dreams of her touch; was this what she had gone through? Surely not, or she would have been mad by now, or tempted into the welcoming arms of a demon.

His fist found the wall, brands lighting to give him a hazy iridescent glow. His chest heaved. He had hurt her, and if what Sebastian had said was true, so had that damned abomination. Maker help that mage, if he hurt her, nothing would stop him from plucking out his heart and crushing it.

He had to go to her, he knew that. Time was not on his side; reluctantly his sister had agreed to extend her stay, but for no longer than a month. And he knew he couldn't go to her alone – Hadriana had given him the information about her, and that left no doubt in his mind that Danarius _had_ to know. Every bit of information his master's pet pupil knew was known by his master. He wasn't so naïve to think otherwise.

He growled and turned, his foot flying out to send the chair nearby flying across the room into the wall where it crashed, and fell to the floor in pieces. Even now, while she was in pain, he was only thinking of himself? He didn't deserve her, and that was saying a great deal when he thought so little of mages. But she…Hawke was different; she wasn't like the others, and he couldn't forget her. That didn't mean he hadn't given it a good try – he'd spent days, weeks, months, _years_, trying but to no avail.

He glared down at the red sash around his wrist; none had asked him where it had come from or why he wore it. What would she say if she knew that it was the sash from the robes she'd worn that night three years ago?

He gave a resigned sigh, his gauntlet claw fingers plucking at the sash. He'd put it off long enough. He had to go see Hawke.

* * *

The room was dark, the fire having had died out hours before. The sun had set and the night had crept over the city, blanketing it in a darkness she found comforting. Her head was pounding, but she didn't care – the physical pain was a decent diversion from the pain that sat on her chest like a heavy stone. It made it hard to breathe, each breath a shudder of her lungs as a sob tried to wrestle its way free from her. Tears had come and gone, a river of them, yet the sobs continued.

How many days had come and gone like this? It felt almost surreal, Anders' betrayal, as if she could be in the Fade and wake at any moment to find herself back in Lothering, on the farm, with her family, before the Darkspawn had come through and turned everything upside down. Even being a mage, hiding from the Templars, she preferred that life to this one of pain, suffering, betrayal, and conflict.

Mother and father were dead, her baby sister was dead, and her baby brother had betrayed her by going to the very people who would sooner see her locked up and shackled, then free and happy. Fenris, despite their uneasy friendship, had wormed his way into her heart and then stomped it beneath his heel. And Anders…Anders had used her for his damned revolution, only making her despise her heritage more than she already had. Was there no one that she could trust?

She groaned and bit her pillow as frustration and anger welled up with the pain. Her magic would have broken something again she was sure if she wasn't so drained, and so weak. She couldn't recall when she had slept last, much less eaten. The feel of her magic was there but she couldn't pull on it, coax it, with the lethargic veil over her body. It wasn't…unpleasant, really. Her eyes drifted shut and she hovered ever so dangerously close to the edge of the veil, the Fade tickling at her senses.

A noise jolted her back to reality, her heart slamming against her chest painfully with anxiety and fear as her bed dipped. Someone was here! She choked back a sound and forced her tired body to move, rolling out of the bed and hitting the floor just as blades were sunk deeply into the mattress where she had been seconds before.

"The blood of the Hawke," her assaulter whispered.

She shuddered and pushed herself up, grunting with pain as the figure shouldered her into the wall. A dagger was at her throat then and she kneed the man in his groin. He cried out and stumbled back, giving her just enough room to wiggle past him and make a run for the door.

"Bodahn!" She yelled out the dwarf's name as she moved, half stumbling as the weariness of her body pulled her down. Her attacker was on her again then, shoulder hitting her in the back and sending her sprawling onto the ground with a cry. Her brow smacked the floor and she groaned as the room began to spin dizzily around her. Blood seeped from the slight gash and her attacker hissed. Just as he moved to grab at her again, the door flung open, a glowing figure all she could make out as blackness teased at the edges of her vision.

Her eyes fluttered shut as her attacker cried out, the sound of something being ripped from flesh filling her ears. Next she knew, she was being lifted and set back on her bed, her body feeling light and unsubstantial. Warmth flooded her as whomever rescued her ran their hand over her hair in a caress. It lasted only a brief moment, before the figure retreated, calling for Bodahn. She must have dozed off. When she opened her eyes next, the hearth and candles were lit, flooding the room in light. Fenris was seated beside her bed, his eyes glowering at nothing consequential, brows drawn together tightly in a scowl.

She swallowed thickly. "F-Fenris?"

His eyes jumped to her face and she thought she imagined the relief that passed across his face. He dragged his chair closer and touched a bare hand – when had he removed his gauntlets? – to the gash on her forehead. "Hawke. How are you feeling?" His voice was like a healing balm and she almost cried at hearing it; how long had it been since that velvet baritone had spoken her name?

"I am…tired, and hungry. My head hurts." She groaned and touched a hand to her forehead, her fingers brushing his ever so faintly, making her heart stutter. He withdrew his, making her sigh. "What happened?"

"A dwarf attacked you. His…body is outside, being looked over by Varric."

"How long was I out?"

He frowned, glanced away. "A little over an hour. If it had been any longer I would have called for the abomination."

At the mention of Anders, she frowned and shook her head. "I would…rather not see him."

His gaze found hers, his hands suddenly fisted on his thighs, a scowl once again on his face. "What did he do, Hawke?"

She swallowed, pain surfacing all over again like a festering wound. He seemed taken aback by how pronounced it was; his hands tightened, his scowl sliding into a deeper, nearly seething expression. "It doesn't matter now. I only hope he will be happy with what he's done in the end."

Her cryptic words seemed to frustrate him as he sighed and stood, pacing away from her. "Hawke, if he hurt you, I will kill him."

"Tsk, Fenris, we need a healer." She joked, masking her pain with humor. He growled and she chuckled. "My healing magic is far from helpful. Speaking of which – will you have Bodahn get me a lyrium potion and some bread?"

He looked as if he wanted to argue, but sighed and left the room to do as she asked. She closed her eyes and basked in the silent warmth of the room, her heart nearly jovial at the fact that Fenris was here, that he had actually come to her. The sound of feet had her opening her eyes again to see Fenris walking toward her with a tray. She sat up gingerly and he set it on her lap, her eyes suddenly drawn to the scarlet sash tied around his wrist; why did it look so familiar?

He sat in the chair again as she downed the water, then picked at her bread, her starving body rewarding her with a flood of magical energy. The lyrium potion was last, but what she needed most. Setting the tray aside, she let her eyes close as she sought the connection to her mana; it swirled in her, warming her, and she coaxed it clumsily into a basic healing spell, letting it sooth over her to help her lethargic limbs and sealing the slight laceration on her brow. With a sigh, she let the magic fade and looked at Fenris, his suddenly hot eyes making her shudder. She had forgotten what her magic did, pulling on his markings and tormenting him.

"Fenris – " she reached for him, but Varric decided to stroll in at that very moment, drawing both of their eyes to where he stood in the doorway.

"Your little visitor is a Carta dwarf, though why he attacked you, I have no bloody idea. Must have been suicidal," the dwarf drawled. "I got enough information to take us to where he came from."

"Then we will go," Fenris said as he stood, his tone brooking no denials.

"Fenris, surely we don't need to – "

"Hawke, we are going." He turned his eyes to her, daring her to say otherwise. She smiled faintly with a shake of her head.

"You win – this time. Tomorrow then."

* * *

Carver showed up the next day, absolutely livid. Apparently the Carta assassins had made an attempt on his life as well. He demanded that he go with them, and Hawke for once was too curious to say no – that they had made an attempt on her brother as well was curious behavior. If they had attacked just her, she would chalk it up to being Champion – being so well known had her dealing with attempted assassinations on more than one occasion. But something about this was off, and she had to know what was going on.

Varric, Carver, Fenris and Hawke stood outside out her estate when her dwarven companion said something that would prove to be the final straw in what was left of Hawke and Anders' relationship. Had he known, he would have kept his blighted mouth shut.

"Better safe than sorry – I'll go get Blondie."


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: **Thank you for all the continued support! Every review, alert, and favorite means a great deal! ^_^

_Disclaimer: Bioware._

* * *

**A Wolf and Mage's Uneasy Path**

**Chapter Nine**

* * *

"I will keep guard, but tell me everything sister."

Hawke sighed and nodded. Varric and Carver had been the only ones to attempt conversation on the day's journey; Anders being here was, well, awkward at best. Hawke's gaze would wander in the mage's direction, only to find his amber gaze on her, his expression sad and almost tormented. A glance to her other side would find Fenris' jade eyes locked on the mage, murderous intent obvious in the scowl of hatred marring his features. Varric looked antsy, looking between the two with brows raised. In the end Hawke resolved to keep her gaze forward.

"And there it is," Varric said as he pulled ahead of Hawke, gesturing with an arm.

"That's where your dwarves are?" Hawke took a look around the canyon and the faint outline of a compound close by, before turning her eyes back to Varric who nodded.

"These are Carta dwarves," he half shrugged, "so they're more criminals and smugglers than anything else."

"Mmm, joy." Hawke drawled, voice dripping with sarcasm that could make Varric proud.

Her dwarven friend chuckled, stroking his chin for a moment in thought. "They're usually not stupid though. I don't know why they would attack you."

"Neither do I, this doesn't exactly make sense." Hawke rolled her shoulders in a shrug.

"You have a plan then? I found their hideout, but my sources couldn't tell me anything else. It's all…" He frowned uncharacteristically and rubbed the back of his head. "…strange."

"Don't I always?"

Anders stepped up then and Hawke nearly winced when he laid his hand on her shoulder. "I don't like knowing they could get at you. It worries me."

"I made sure to take care of her attacker. They won't get the chance again." Fenris said then and Hawke actually did wince when Anders' hand tightened on her, almost painfully. A glance to his face proved her suspicion that he was glaring at the elf, his jaw rigid.

"Ah, let's go." Hawke said the words almost desperately and ducked out from under Anders' hand. The tense silence continued but she ignored it and began walking down the path with Varric. Soon enough the other two were following behind, no doubt glowering holes into each other. Inwardly she sighed. This was going to be a long day…

* * *

It was apparent the dwarves were insane.

"You, you're finally here! You've come!" The dwarf even clasped his hands like he was giving thanks in prayer to the Maker. "Everyone, it's the child of Malcolm Hawke! She's come to us!" Two other dwarves with hood masks, and as equally freaky white eyes as the other, came to join him.

"What does my father have to do with this?" Hawke demanded; no one had mentioned her father save for those in her family, and it was usually in tones of regret and loss, how much they missed him and how well he had raised them.

"It began with him and ends with you! Blood for blood, that's what we were told!"

"What in the Maker are you blabbering on about?" Hawke tried to make sense of his words, but it sounded like gibberish, words garbled with hidden meaning she couldn't comprehend.

"You've come to us now and that's the only thing that matters!"

"I've come to find out why the Carta has attacked me!" She snapped out, frustration edging in over all else.

"_For the blood! We must have it!_ _We will take it! Corypheus will walk in the sun once more!_"

Insane; somehow the word seemed…inadequate.

"Clearly these dwarves are insane," Fenris drawled after they'd cut through the number of dwarves that had joined the ambush; glad to see she wasn't the only who thought so. "Perhaps even more so than Varric." She turned to see a slight smirk and she couldn't help the smile teasing the edges of her lips.

"I heard that!" Varric snapped, making her chuckle.

"I _would_ like to know who this Corypheus is…" Hawke started, then decided to joke with him, enjoying the suddenly light atmosphere. "With a name like that, he's bound to go 'mwa-ha-ha' at some point, I just know it. And really? More blood? Why can't it be spit…or you know, a lock of hair?"

Varric nearly sputtered, choking on a laugh. "You _really _want to encounter a spit mage?"

Hawke grimaced, making a disgusted face as she retrieved the key to the gate from the chest nearby. "On second thought…"

"Thought so."

Chuckling, she climbed to her feet. When she turned, she found Anders staring at her with that same tormented expression, eyes sad as he looked at her; not even a half smile, or a half laugh. When had he become so morose? So withdrawn, no light in his eyes, no sense of humor? Their eyes met for a brief moment before she shook her head, moving past him.

"Now this is unexpected," Fenris started as they made their way through the gate. "I thought all dwarves did was drink."

"Hey now!" Hawke bit her lip to keep from laughing at Varric's mocked outrage.

"And lie, yes. Pardon the omission," Fenris drawled with a chuckle.

Varric smirked. "That's better."

Now was definitely not the time for Anders' morose, depressing, tortured attitude. Things were bleak enough as if, she much preferred the banter over his puppy-dog expression that pleaded her forgiveness. Forgiveness she wasn't certain she could offer him.

"Hawke…how is it you get into these situations so often?" Fenris' voice brought her from her thoughts and she blinked, looking over at him as they walked.

"Whatever do you mean, Fenris?" She asked, almost too innocently, a smile tugging at her lips.

"Attacked by dwarves, approached by strangers, stumbling upon ancient riddles…madness."

"It's a gift!"

Fenris chuckled, a genuine smile curling his lips in an aesthetically pleasing way. "Well _I_ think you should return it."

She much preferred this, over the way it had been over the last several years, even if Anders wasn't enjoying himself. If he was determined to bury himself in self-loathing misery. He'd made his bed and he seemed determined to lie in it.

"When I left the Wardens I swore I'd never spend another minute in the Deep Roads." Speak of the devil.

Hawke's lips parted, but before she could say anything, Fenris did. "Left…you make it sound like it was a mutual agreement."

"So I ran away. What's your point?" Anders snapped out.

"Ran away from the Circle, ran away from the Wardens... it sounds like a habit," Fenris shrugged his shoulders, as if he were stating a fact and nothing else, and yet, Hawke's mouth went dry. The last thing she needed, or wanted, was another fight between the two she would need to break up.

"Running away from your family, straight to Danarius, running away from Danarius, straight to Hawke. Maybe we're more alike than you think." Anders looked down at his nails, picked at them almost nonchalantly.

"I've always said so," Varric chimed in, making Hawke choke on a laugh she _knew_ was inappropriate; Maker, what had she gotten herself into now?

* * *

Things had gotten even more bizarre, if that were possible. They'd taken out dwarf after dwarf, before one claimed to have a key attuned to her blood. When she'd looted his corpse and pulled from him a glowing staff, she'd cried out as it connected with her.

"That key draws on your blood, Hawke. There are dangerous magics here," Anders had warned.

Everything she had come across before now, seemed to pale in comparison, she noted, as they chased two dwarves, only to be locked in. The path behind them became sealed in magical barrier, one even she couldn't undo.

"Should have seen that coming…" she sighed and shook her head.

"We're wasting time down here. Meredith could be burning down the circle, as we speak." Anders sighed as they started walking again.

Hawke bit her lip and ignored the barb; yes, the reason her life was endangered _would_ be a waste of time to him, wouldn't it? It didn't have anything to do with the mage agenda, so why should he care? Oh right, except that he loved her.

Damn mage certainly had a funny way of showing it.

* * *

She was hearing her father's voice; the outline of his spirit stood before her, she could scarcely believe it. It was if a spiritual message had been tied to each demon he had sealed away here. Her fingers itched to reach out, touch him, but they refrained, knowing they would pass through seeing as this was a fragment, and nothing more. Yet, it was something she needed, now more than ever, even with the knowledge that her father had used blood magic; something that did not sit well with Anders, if she were to guess given his tight frown.

"I've bought our freedom, Leandra. We can go home now, us and the baby. We'll be together. I hope it takes after you love. I would wish this magic on no one…may they never learn what I've done here."

And just like that, he faded away and Hawke found her eyes misting against her will.

"The baby? He's…he's talking about me! All those things he did, he did for us, for his family." The words echoed and vaguely, she wondered who she was talking to. She had to keep herself from jerking when a hand landed on her shoulder, thinking it was Anders and fearing his words that would ruin this memory of her father, or worse yet, Fenris there and harping on her about how her family was tainted and evil because her father had used blood magic. When she turned her head and found Fenris looking at her compassionately, she nearly did start weeping. Right there.

"Your father seemed like a wise man who loved you all. What is it like, to hear his voice again?"

"Mother should have been here, and Bethany. I should not have been the only one to hear his voice," she sighed, and cleared her throat, abhorring the way her voice trembled. "It's an amazing experience…I'll never forget it." She set her hand over his gauntlet and gave him a reassuring smile, not missing the way that Anders' jaw twitched, and the way his eyes narrowed. "Come, let's go."

* * *

The strange warden they had encountered was a twist Hawke hadn't seen coming, but what's even worse was, as they continued to undo the seals that would release Corypheus, Anders seemed to become more and more unhinged. Ranting about the voices in his head, and to make them stop, about how she should not have to deal with this part of his life. Maker, she was beginning to see how desperate Anders' plight was and how in need of help he was. How had her feelings for him clouded all this…despair and heartache that came with being with someone like him? He had crossed the line, so long ago, she could see that now; fusing with Justice was just the catalyst to his formula for madness.

They had to finish here, and soon. The last seal was waiting for them, up the winding path. So close. Her heart was racing. Bringing Anders here had been a mistake from the beginning, but it was more apparent now.

"Stop! Just make him stop talking! Make him stop!" Anders nearly screamed the words, clapping his hands over his ears.

"Anders, Anders its okay. It's just us." Hawke tried to reassure him, approaching cautiously.

"He will kill us all if he allows his demon to take him!" Fenris snapped, holding his blade ready, eyes narrowed. Hawke gave him a pleading look and he eased…but only ever so slightly.

"I…I can't...the voices…" He shuddered. "Wardens…the joining…I have too much taint in my blood…I can't shut him out! Help me…help me, love…" He reached for her. "I will not…" and then suddenly, his aura flashed and it was no longer Anders, but Justice. "…be controlled!" He was charging at her, Shades appearing and attacking the others as Justice's hands wrapped around her throat. She choked, her hands instinctively flying up to claw at his glowing fingers; her eyes, wide and shocked, stared into the eerie depths of Justice's flaring orbs, and she wondered briefly, if this was how she would die, at the hands of Anders in a moment of weakness.

He suddenly let go of her, stumbling back as she dropped to the ground, wheezing. Fenris kicked him again, sending him sprawling flat on his back. The elf straddled the mage, his lyrium marking alight, his sword tossed aside as he opted to smash a gauntlet clad fist into Anders' face. After two hits, the mage was blissfully knocked unconscious and Hawke stumbled to her feet, dashing to Fenris' side before he could hit the mage a third time. Her hands caught his arm and he looked at her, his face set in a deep scowl, eyes filled with a hatred she had never seen before, so intense and consuming.

"I'm okay…please, stop. He didn't mean it." She held his hand to her chest, over her heart, her eyes pleading; she felt as if she were convincing herself, as much as she was him. His chest heaved, but he nodded curtly and stood, pulling away from her and pacing away to pick up his sword.

As she healed Anders' face, Fenris came to stand just behind her. "If he so much as lays a hand on you again, I will kill him." His voice was low, a deadly promise she had no other option but to believe. A part of her rejoiced at his words, showing her that he did still care for her, but another part of her dreaded them because she knew she would most likely let him.

Anders claimed to love her, but he had cast her aside for his rebellion, used her for his plans, and now had tried to kill her. He was a deeply troubled man, but she couldn't be the one to help him…not anymore. She was so bloody tired of trying when it did no good and he continued to refuse to trust her. He had been so intent on pushing her away, maybe he would be happy that he had at last succeeded.

"Thank you, love," he mumbled as he climbed gingerly to his feet.

"Don't...don't call me that, anymore." She whispered the words, just loud enough for the two of them to hear as she came to stand, her gaze meeting his. "I've tried, Anders; Maker, how I've tried. You don't love me...you love the ideal of me, what I stand for, how I've made a name for myself, despite being a mage. You want to use me and you even said you'd break my heart."

"Hawke, I..." He frowned, his brows tight over his eyes as he glared at Fenris for a moment. "This is about him, isn't it?"

"No," Hawke shook her head. "Even if it was, it wouldn't matter." It goaded her that she would have to defend herself against Anders' insinuating words, given what he had put her through over the last year. "This...what we had...it was over the moment Justice wrapped his hands around my throat and tried to kill me."

His eyes widened and fell to her neck where faint purplish bruises were beginning to form on her pale flesh. "Oh Maker, Hawke...I'm sorry."

"I know, Anders. I know."

"We can talk about this, Hawke, when we get back - "

She shook her head again, taking a step back from him, her withdrawal apparent in the gesture. "I tried talking to you, Anders. I tried getting you to talk to me. I'm done talking. I'm just...done." She turned and strode over to where Fenris and Varric were waiting for her. She glanced at him over her shoulder. "Let's go."

He looked as if he wanted to argue, his hands clenched tightly at his sides. After a long moment of meeting her gaze, he finally sighed and dropped his gaze with a nod. "As you say, Hawke."


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: **I had intended to have chapter 9 and 10 together, but realized it was going to be massive, so that's why Legacy-chapters got split. Thank you for your reviews and support!

_Disclaimer: Bioware_

* * *

**A Wolf and Mage's Uneasy Path**

**Chapter Ten**

* * *

"You're too late, Larius. Hand over Hawke and I will give you a quick death." Janeka's voice made them halt as they came toward the final seal where Corypheus awaited them. Hawke narrowed her eyes at the Grey Warden mage; she was a fool to think she could gain control over an ancient, sentient darkspawn, but she intent on doing so, with or without Hawke's cooperation.

"Hawke had made her choice; the right one." She couldn't agree more with Larius' words; deals with demons never worked, why mages couldn't see that, Hawke had no idea. She nodded, not tearing her gaze from Janeka who glared at her, obviously frustrated by her lack of cooperation.

Then she smirked and Hawke felt uneasy. "The right choice or the only choice? Malcolm Hawke was not allowed to disagree."

"That is the past, it doesn't matter." Larius made a curt, dismissive gesture.

"I would think that's for me to decide," Hawke said, turning her pale blue gaze to Larius. "What does Janeka mean by…not allowed? And do not lie to me, Larius."

Larius turned his eyes back to the four Grey Wardens before them. "How does she know this? Alec, did you tell her?" He sighed and hobbled a pace or two away, his back to Hawke and the others. "Malcolm Hawke was reluctant. Had to be…persuaded. I was Warden Commander, it was my duty. I delivered an ultimatum – 'help us or you'll never see her again'."

"You…you threatened my father?" Hawke's voice rose with her anger, her magic building around her twitching fingertips as she took a threatening step toward Larius. "You were going to kill mother?" Anders gripped her arm to stall her movements, but she shrugged it off, half glaring at him; their gazes stayed locked for a brief moment before she sighed and took a step back.

"No! Never!" Larius came back toward her, shaking his head adamantly. "He came with us, I never had to decide his fate! She was never told about what passed between Malcolm and me."

"That doesn't make it better," Hawke sighed, rubbing a finger between her brows where a subtle ache was beginning; Maker, this day just kept getting better and better, didn't it?

"You see Hawke," Janeka started, drawing her attention. "How can you trust anything Larius says?"

"Larius' threats or not, he is still right about Corypheus." Hawke sighed. "I am not releasing a demon just because _you_ think you can control it. My father would do the same, I know it."

"You can come willingly or not, Hawke." Janeka threatened, the other three wardens gathering around her. They unsheathed their weapons and Hawke took the defensive, raising her staff. Janeka's green gaze narrowed. "I just need your blood."

Alec rushed forward his blade raised, ready to strike her, but Fenris was there suddenly, throwing the man back. Hawke and Anders moved back as Varric unleashed a rain of arrows, bolts flying up only to fall upon the Wardens. Hawke's magic swarmed warmly within her and she coaxed it, eyes narrowed, before she cupped her hands and shot them forward, a fireball flying out to slam at Janeka's feet and send her flying. It was all over in a matter of moments and Hawke was glad to have put the crazy bitch down; it was confounding to her how mages continued to think they wouldn't fall prey to a demon when they made their deals with the spirits. Her father…he had resorted to blood magic, to protect her and mother, but he had sealed the demons here and vowed never to release one upon the world. Why couldn't mages be more like her father? She never approved of blood magic, never resorted to it herself, but that didn't mean she looked down on her father for having used it – he had done it the right way, _if_ blood magic _had_ a right way.

"He stirs…" Larius said, walking toward the platform in the middle of the tower that was illuminated in a soft, golden glow, strands of the glow snaking through the air to four statues on balconies on the edges of the tower. "Slay him now before he wakes, before his strength comes." He walked forward a few steps, before he stopped and turned to face her. "The key…it isn't strong enough. Use your blood – free him and slay him."

One by one, Hawke and the others went to the statues and disconnected them from the platform. It was obvious something was happening, the swirls of gold fading away with each, the spell holding Corypheus beginning to lift. When the last was done, the four torch-like pillars around the platform lit lavender and she swallowed as she approached, alone this time, while the other stood back and watched almost anxiously(least she would assume so, who knew what she would be unleashing). Up the steps she went, her heart racing and mouth dry; were they mad to think she could defeat such a creature? She glanced back at the others, seeing the determination set in the lines of their faces, and nodded, turning back.

She pulled a dagger from her inside her sleeve and trembled. This was it, wasn't it? She would be using blood magic to lift the seal over a sentient darkspawn, but she was strong, like her father, and set her lips together tightly and raised her arm. Gritting her teeth, she sliced the dagger across her palm and watched as her blood welled and slid to fall in a river of droplets onto the stone beneath her. It lit up beneath her, tracing lines in gold, and a golden hue surrounded her; she took the staff, the key, from her back and set it before her where it become engulfed in gold. Suddenly the light exploded outward and sent her careening with the key off the platform onto the stone floor of the tower with a wince. She pushed herself to her feet quickly and turned, watching as the creature came from within the stone; a grotesque mix of mage, man, and darkspawn, she was unsure of what it was she was _actually _looking at.

"Be this some dream I wake from?" This must have been Corypheus, Hawke decided. "Am I in dwarven lands? Why seem their roads so empty?" He looked around the tower room, almost confused; that didn't make sense, as he'd been sending assassins after her and Carver in his sleep. Had it been subconscious? Something that he, himself, wasn't entirely aware of? He pointed at Hawke then. "You! Serve you at the temple of Dumat? Bring me hence! I must speak with the first acolyte!"

Anders turned to her then, an almost perplexed, yet stricken look on his face. "Dumat…was the first Old God to become an Archdemon. There haven't been temples to him since ancient Tevinter."

"You look human," Corypheus stated then, giving Hawke an almost curious look. "Are you not citizens of the Empire? Slaves then, to the dwarves?" Hawke was certain she heard Fenris scoff at this point. "Why come you here? Whoever you be, you owe fealty to any magister of Tevinter. On your knees!" He gestured with an arm. "All of you!"

Hawke's eyes narrowed. "You're a darkspawn. Dark…spawn…Ravaging the Deep Roads, spreading the Blight. Does any of this sound familiar?"

Corypheus paused for a moment, then almost seemed to sniff the air. "You," he drawled, "you are what held me. I smell the blood in you." He turned away, paced a bit. "The light. We sought the light. You offered…the power of the gods themselves. But it was…black…corrupt. Darkness…ever since. How long?" He groaned and turned back, his head down.

Larius stepped up beside Hawke, shaking his head. Hawke's heart was racing in her chest; the way this ting spoke, it was as if it were a magister of the ones who had dared tread in the Maker's city. Larius echoed her thoughts. "The Golden City. The first violation…the magisters who brought the Blight."

Anders scoffed and shook his head. "That's ridiculous! There were no magical boogeymen who trespassed in the Maker's city. It's a _**story**_, for Maker's sake!"

"You don't think a magister would be arrogant enough to challenge the Maker?" Fenris scowled at the mage and glared at him openly. "You need to meet more magisters."

"I'll pass, thanks." Anders sighed. "It's Chantry _propaganda_, nothing more."

"So…this darkspawn is just insane then?" Hawke shook her head with a soft sigh. "Anders, the Chantry teaches that it was mankind's hubris that brought the Blights down on us. You know that."

His amber gaze narrowed on her then, as if her beliefs irritated him. "The hubris of _mages_, Hawke, like you and I. That's their _real_ point."

She almost snapped a snide comment at him, but Corypheus chose this moment to come back toward them, sweeping a hand out in an encompassing gesture. "What manner of speech is this? How long is it that I have slumbered?"

"He tainted the world. He speaks to all who carry the corruption. Darkspawn. Wardens. He brought Janeka here. Brought you, Hawke…"

Hawke turned her pale eyes to Larius, looking at him curiously. "You really think he's one of the original magisters? That he…that he has been to the Black City?" Even as she said it, it sounded preposterous, but how could she deny the proof standing just before them? Her father had used the thing he'd hated the most, his magic and his blood, to keep this creature from being released – that meant he was far from ordinary, but she knew that much already.

"The City!" Corypheus snapped, anger tingeing the edges of his voice. "It was supposed to be golden! It was supposed to be ours!" He rose above them, glowering down at Hawke. "If I cannot leave with you, I will leave through you! I seek the light!" Hawke barely caught sight of Larius running from the tower just before Corypheus attacked them. She was sent flying back, rolling to a stop as the other began an assault upon the magister. She climbed to her feet, grabbing the key from its place on the floor.

"Dumat! Grant me your powers!" Corypheus called to the Old God, reappearing in the center of the platform, absorbing fire from one of the four statues that they had used to unseal him.

"The statues!" Hawke shouted as twins trails of fire were burst at them. It went on like this, for what seemed forever; they would cut the connection to the statues, then he would absorb another elemental magic, before they had do it all over again.

"We can't keep this up forever, Hawke!" Varric exclaimed, dodging one of the electrified rocks as they charged toward another statue.

"Tell me something I don't know!"

* * *

At last, when her magic was nearly inaccessible, her body heavy, lungs starved for oxygen, did the magister fall to his knees, bleeding profusely from a multitude of wounds she and the others had inflicted upon him. She absorbed as much of her mana as she could as he lifted his black eyes to her, then smashed her staff upon the stone and sending spikes of ice into his flesh. He screamed, and shuddered, before falling on his side and ceasing to be all together.

Hawke set her hands on her knees and caught her breath, feeling weak and drained. Maker, she had never had to fight anything so powerful in her entire life; blood magic, or not, her father had been right to use his blood to keep this monstrosity sealed in the tower. She approached Corypheus' corpse slowly, cautiously, as did the others. Kneeling down, she plucked an amulet from around his neck and stood, studying it carefully.

"That amulet…" Anders stood beside her now, eyes wide as he gazed upon the piece of jewelry. "No one's used that pattern since before the First Blight. It was unique," he turned his eyes to her now, voice sounding almost…astonished, "to a small sect in Tevinter who worshipped the god Dumat. Corypheus…he…he _really was_ an ancient magister."

"They're no myth, mage." Fenris stated as he came up on Hawke's other side. Did they always, even subconsciously, put her in the middle? "Nor have the magisters changed."

Anders frowned at him, and simply turned his gaze back to Hawke. "I always thought the Black City was just a story…"

Hawke stared at him, for a long moment, weighing over what words she should say to him; he looked hopeful, as if she would deny his words, and stand with his belief that the Chantry made up the magisters' violation to turn all the inhabits in Thedas against mage kind. "Anders, the Chantry isn't as bad as you make it out to be," she sighed softly and glanced away, suddenly feeling uneasy. "Maybe they're right about other things, too…"

"I will need to study this further…" he mumbled, and dropped it at that.

For that, she could be grateful – another argument with him would have been more than she could have dealt with today, given the events that had already transpired. There was something here, something that had been beyond her understanding and now, more than ever, she felt that there had to be some kind of middle ground in Kirkwall for the mages and Templar. As she stared down at Corypheus' corpse, she couldn't help but feel the Chantry had plenty of reason to be as vigilant as it was – to a point.

* * *

The fire was warm as it blazed to life in the pit of the main room. Hawke was relieved to be home, but she had so much on her mind, so many things to consider, reflect over. She leaned up from where she was braced against the wall as Carver came in; the journey home had been essentially been filling him in over all that had happened, and how father was involved, and what he'd done. Her brother was adamant that their father would never use blood magic, even with Hawke's reasoning.

"The attacks, darkspawn, every bloody part of it, all because of what happened years ago. What he did for mother, no…for all us, really." He sighed and gazed at the fire for a brief moment. "How would mother take this…strange magic? I wish I could talk to her…"

She smiled slightly, touching his arm gently. "They wouldn't want us wallowing over what we've lost," she said softly, her own words dawning over her with sudden realization. There would always be pain, but she was right; mother and father wouldn't want her wallowing like a child. She was strong, had to gather herself, and move forward with her chin held high.

"I don't think either of them got what they wanted out of this life," he said, almost grimly. Then he chuckled and stroked his chin. "So back to the way things are."

Hawke smiled and half shrugged. "Seems that way."

"Right." He paused thoughtfully. "Sister…" he seemed like he wanted to say something, but he sighed and shook his head ever so slightly. "Nevermind." He nodded, before he turned and left her home, the door clicking shut almost silently behind him.

What would mother say? She wondered that herself as she turned back to the fire, letting her eyes shut softly. She could picture her mother there, standing beside her at the fire, as they had done many times before.

"_You know Malcolm wouldn't want you two to fight." She would sigh then, a small smile on her lips. "He sacrificed so we'd have a life free to choose, not always agree. His burden must have been very much like yours."_

"I do what I can," Hawke sighed softly, rubbing a hand over her tired face. "Sometimes it doesn't seem like enough though, mother."

"_You know your father tried to help people the same way. Tried to fix troubles he saw in others. Even if he couldn't fix it, he would try." She would smile, as she always did when speaking of her father; always and continuously proud of her father. "The best of him is still with you. The best of all of us. It's what makes you try so hard, dear. You will always have that. We will always be family." Her mother would reach out, touch her gently. "It'll be alright."_

"Of course, mother…" Hawke sighed, letting the memory of her mother fade so it was just her, standing alone. "It'll be alright. It will all work out somehow…I hope you are right."


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N: **This is for Hatseput, since she so kindly guilt-tripped me into updating today and gave my story a shout out in her own fic, Don't Bet On It. Anything written by her is worth a read and I am hooked, and proud to be her Beta-Reader. ^_^

Disclaimer: Bioware.

* * *

**A Wolf and Mage's Uneasy Path**

**Chapter Eleven**

* * *

Fenris wanted to talk with Hawke when they had returned to Kirkwall, but the sad look in her eyes had been enough to show him she needed some time to herself. He couldn't blame her. The Vimmark Mountains had been filled with revelations for Hawke, not all of them good. That reasoning is why he was standing outside her mansion in the middle of the night; at least that is what he told himself. He wanted to deny that he wanted to be near her, for the reason of just being near _her_. He sighed and leaned his head back against the wall, his arms folded over his chest. He should leave, go back to his mansion, alone, as he always did – not that Isabela hadn't tried her hardest to change that over the years(why he thought of that now, was beyond him). As…tempting as the pirate wench was, he couldn't bring himself to do it; not if it would erase the feel of Hawke from his flesh.

He lifted his hand and gazed at the red sash tied around his wrist. Was he a fool for not letting go? _Why_ couldn't he let go? The mage haunted him like a demon, but it was more than that now, he knew that. He had argued with her, spurned her, branded her with cruel words – 'it was just sex'. Was that really all it had been? Seeing her with Anders had nearly made him mad, but even more so when that damned abomination had dared wrap his hands around her throat. All he had seen was red. He'd cut through the shades and charged, with all his speed and all his might, to get to her before it was too late.

He would have killed that damned mage, if Hawke's sorrowful, pleading eyes hadn't pushed away the haze of red, of bloodlust, and calmed him; if she hadn't told him to stop.

"What are you doing here?" Speak of the abomination. Fenris lifted his eyes, and dropped his hand. Anders stood a few feet away, his hands clenched into fists, jaw taunt.

"I am keeping an eye on Hawke." Fenris said simply. Was it strange that he wasn't angered by Anders' mere presence?

Anders' eyes narrowed. "She doesn't need you keeping an eye on her," he snapped the words, his teeth clicking with the force of his irritation.

Fenris' dark brows drew down over his eyes, his own jaw tightening as he pressed his lips together tightly. "Doesn't she?" He pushed himself off the wall, standing straight as he pointed a gauntlet claw in Anders' direction. "You were supposed to watch over her, protect her, yet instead I found myself saving her _from _you."

All the anger seemed to drain out of Anders and his shoulders sagged, his gaze falling to the ground uncomfortably. "That was…"

"Your spirit of justice, yes. I must have not been privy to the details, because I do not see the justice in what you did to Hawke."

"You're one to talk!" Anders snapped, as his body tightened like a coil. The elf noted how very volatile the mage had become over the years and now, more than ever, he felt the need, almost feral need, to protect Hawke from him.

"Yes...I am not one to talk." Fenris' lyrium infused brands lit up as he took a threatening step toward Anders, poking a finger into the mage's chest and watching him bristle. He had to the give the abomination credit; he wasn't backing down, but instead, stood straighter, his spine stiff as he glared at the elf. "But I have never wrapped my hands around her throat and tried to _kill_ her."

"That wasn't me!" Anders cried vehemently, shoving the elf away as he shook his head in denial.

"You are in denial, Anders!" Fenris suddenly shouted and Anders froze, his eyes wide. "_That_ was you, a _part_ of _you_. It wasn't some spirit's hands wrapped around her throat, squeezing, it was yours. You are dangerous, the Vimmark Mountains proved that. Did you not warn her?"

"I know that," Anders groaned, rubbing his hands over his face. "She made it clear we're over…but I need to talk to her…see her, I can't…I can't just leave it like this."

So Hawke really had ended it. Fenris had wondered. When they returned to Kirkwall, they had gone to Darktown instead of her mansion. When Anders had turned and gave her a questioning look, she had shook her head and said, almost sadly, _go home Anders_. A part of him had rejoiced, but he couldn't help the pity he felt for the abomination. He wasn't a bad man…for a mage. He _was_ a healer. But he was dangerous, a host to an insane spirit bent on vengeance. When the mage had taken the spirit into his body, he had made his bed, and whether or not it had originally been with good intentions, the mage had created a demon – how did that saying go? The path to the Void was forever paved with good intentions.

"Anders, if you have ever really loved _her_, go home."

"Maybe you're right…" Anders sighed, his body sagging once more with defeat. "I have hurt her enough."

"We both have." Fenris muttered as the mage turned and slinked away in the darkness. It was true; they both had hurt her in their own way. It would be up to her if forgiveness would be given. Fenris wasn't about to give up just yet.

* * *

"Fenris?" Hawke looked surprised to see the elf standing outside her home then next morning when she stepped outside, donned in her champion armor. Meredith wanted to see her; all work and no play, she sighed inwardly. "How long have you been waiting?"

His lips quirked. "Not long," he said softly, but she had the distinct feeling he wasn't being honest; little did she know that he had been there all night.

"Meredith said she wanted to speak with me when I had time, was there something you needed?" She asked it, though she knew the answer; this was about his sister, but it wasn't her place to betray Sebastian and what he had confided in her.

He regarded her for a long moment, before looking down at his feet. "Are you alright?"

The question surprised her. It certainly hadn't been what she had expected. Warmth spread in her belly, butterflies nearly long gone making her feel slightly giddy, but she stubbornly stomped the sensation down. Just because things had ended with Anders didn't mean she would go running back to Fenris, she wasn't that kind of woman – the fact that it had happened with Anders had been a mistake. She could see that now. "I am fine," she said softly, with a faint smile that didn't quite reach her eyes.

"I'm relieved to hear that," he said, his eyes meeting hers' then, a soft, answering smile on his own face.

She had missed this, almost being friends with him. Since the night they had slept together, it had fallen to pieces. And when she had gone to him in a moment of weakness, she had only been crushing the pieces with her heel. They had become so distant and, even though his initial retreat had been the cause, she couldn't help but feel partially responsible. They both had made mistakes. He wasn't blameless in this.

"Hawke…I need your help with something," he said, cautiously, interrupting her thoughts. "I know I have no right to ask for your help but I can't do this alone."

"Fenris," she stepped forward and set her hand on his shoulder, mildly surprised when he didn't immediately jerk away from her touch. They had come a long way, it seemed. "I would never turn you away if you needed my help. What is it?" She took her hand and stepped back, though the feel of him was burned into her palm, even through her gloves.

"I haven't told you, but I have been following up on the information from Hadriana. Everything she said was true. I had to keep it quiet," he sighed as he began to pace. "I eventually contacted Varania and sent her coin enough to come and meet me. Now she's here."

"You're worried Danarius knows? That it's a trap?"

"The more it seems he doesn't know, the more certain I become he does!" He stopped his pacing and turned to her, hesitatingly briefly before he touched his own gauntlet clad hand to her arm. "Come with me, Hawke. If this is a trap, I need someone I car—someone who can fight to back me up."

Hawke's eyes narrowed slightly; had he almost said what she thought he did? The butterflies were back and she inwardly scowled. No, she wasn't the same fickle girl she had been before all of this. She couldn't allow herself to fall for these misleading sensations again. She would only be hurt in the end, again. "Where is she?" She finally asked with a nod.

"At the Hanged Man." He withdrew his hand and took a step back, his gaze sliding away uncomfortably, as if he didn't want to say his next words, afraid he may have been begging; "I know you owe me no favors, Hawke…but it would mean a lot to me."

She nodded and passed him, watching as he turned to look at her with a questioning gaze. "Well come on, let's go."

"Now?"

"Why not? The sooner the better, I say."

* * *

As soon as they entered the Hanged Man, Isabela and Varric approached them. Once Hawke explained why it was they were there, Varric pointed to a young red-headed elf seated in the corner. A glance to Fenris who nodded, almost anxiously, and they headed toward her. When they came close, the young elven woman sighed as she looked at Fenris, before shaking her head and dropping her gaze.

"It really is you," she said.

"Varania?" Fenris said her name hesitantly. Her hair, he remembered that hair. He'd seen it the night he'd been with Hawke; the memories flashing through his mind of chasing a young elven girl with flaming red hair. "I…I remember you. We played in our master's courtyard while mother worked. You called me…" the name was there, on the tip of his tongue and his heart thumped wildly.

"Leto," she sighed as she pushed herself up from the table. "That's your name."

"What's wrong? Why are you so…?" He couldn't put a finger on it, but she seemed like she didn't want to be here, and that she was wasting her time. Something was wrong.

Hawke's hand grabbed his shoulder and he looked at her. "Fenris, we have to get out of here…this is a trap!" Her words tumbled out hastily and there was worry in her eyes, but her words were too late.

"Ah, my little Fenris. Predictable as always," Fenris' eyes narrowed at the sound of that voice, one he hated more than any other's. Danarius walked down the steps, a happy, almost complacent smirk on his lips.

"I'm sorry it came to this, Leto," Varania said, trembling slightly as he turned his angry glare upon her.

"You! You led him here!"

"Now, now, Fenris, don't blame your sister," Danarius shook his head as he came to stand beside Varania. "She did what any good Imperial Citizen should."

Fenris growled, spitting onto the ground at Varania's feet. "I never wanted these filthy markings, Danarius. But I won't let you kill me to get them."

Danarius laughed. "How little you know, my pet." Several guards closed in on them, and when Hawke glanced around, she could see they were surrounded. She grit her teeth and glared at the magister that had been the bane of Fenris' existence. What she wouldn't give to smack that smirk right off his face. Danarius looked at her, his smirk growing. "And this is your new Mistress, then? The Champion of Kirkwall?" He licked his lips and she shuddered with repulsion. "Quite lovely, indeed."

She took a step forward and clenched her hands into fists. "Fenris is not a slave! He doesn't belong to anyone!"

"Do I detect a note of jealousy? It's not surprising. The lad is rather skilled, isn't he?" The man laughed again and Hawke found herself shaking with anger. A glance to Fenris had her calming a bit, for he looked even more angry than she did.

"Shut your mouth, Danarius!" Fenris snapped out as his lyrium brands lit, and he dropped into a ready crouch, pulling his sword off his back in one liquid, fluid motion.

"The word is **Master**," Danarius sighed.

"I'll kill you myself!" Hawke snapped out as the guards rushed them, Danarius immediately retreating to the top of the steps. "Coward!" She sent a bolt flying at him, and he laughed as he put up a bubble that made her magic glance off and hit the wall.

Between her anger and Fenris', it didn't take long for the two rogues, one mage, and one warrior to cut through Danarius' pitiful men. She and Fenris fought the battle back to back, a cohesive unit, he slashing his foes to pieces as she whirled her staff to send the men flying with her magic. Before long, Hawke found herself standing before Danarius, her eyes flashing, magic whirling around her with the force of her emotions.

The man looked frightened – good, he had better be. She would make him pay for every last thing he had ever done to Fenris. Just imagining his hands on the elf made her see red. She took a step toward him, but Fenris' hand caught her arm and drew her back against his chest, where he held her. "I don't want his filthy blood on your hands," he murmured, before he let her go and stepped around her.

He took those fateful steps toward Danarius and grabbed the man by his throat. His markings flared impossibly bright as he leveled his face with his. "You are no longer my master!" He growled in his face, before he clenched his hands on that mage's throat, gauntlet claws immediately crushing his windpipe. The man wheezed and convulsed in his hold, before Fenris ripped his claws free, blood splaying as Danarius crumpled, dead, to the dingy floor of the Hanged Man.

He turned to Varania, the adrenaline still rushing through his blood; he had finally killed Danarius. He was free! But his sister had betrayed him. He stalked toward her, so bitterly sick of betrayal.

"I had no choice, Leto." Varania pleaded, cringing behind her hands.

"Stop calling me that!" Fenris snapped as he came to stand before her, his body shuddering. It was just wrong, now, to hear that name from her, when she had been so quick to sell him out.

"He was going to make me his apprentice," she defended herself with pitiful excuses. "I would have been a Magister."

"You sold out your own brother to become a Magister?" He growled the words as if they were bile, spitting at her feet.

"You have no idea what we went through. What I've had to do since mother died. This was my _only_ chance," Varania whined.

"And now you have no chance at all," he grit through his teeth, his lyrium markings lighting as he closed in on her. He stopped as Hawke grabbed his wrist, his head snapping around as he glared at her.

"Fenris…wait, don't kill her," Hawke whispered, almost desperately, because she knew he would do it, but maybe, just maybe, he would listen to her.

"Why? She was ready to see me killed!" He snapped, though his anger subsided some as he gazed into her pleading eyes, knowing she was probably right. He turned to Varania, biting out bitterly, "what is she to me other than just one more tool of the Magisters?"

"Fenris. We can't choose who they are, but she is your _family_."

"Elf…Fenris," Varric took a step up beside him, looking up at him. "I know how hard this is to believe, but this is the last thing you want to do. I know…"

Fenris dropped his eyes to his feet, glaring at some inconsequential spot on the dingy floorboard. Hawke's hand still hadn't let go of his arm and he found himself calming under her touch. Glancing up, he glared at his sister. "Get out."

She didn't hesitate, bolting for the door. She stopped though as Fenris turned to watch her go, subtly pulling his arm from Hawke. Varania turned her head and gave him an odd look as she said, "you said you didn't ask for this, but that's not true. You wanted it, you competed for it – when you won, you used the boon to have mother and I freed."

"Why are you telling me this!" He ground out, taking a threatening step toward her. He just wanted her gone, her face out of his sight.

"Freedom was no boon," Varania said bitterly. "I look on you now and I think you received the better end of the bargain." And then she was gone, out the door and he couldn't have been more relieved to see her go.

He sighed and paced away from Hawke, before turning back toward her, but kept his gaze on the floor. On that same damned inconsequential spot. "I thought discovering my past would bring me a sense of belonging, but I was wrong. Magic has tainted that, too. There is nothing for me to reclaim," he muttered, bitterly, not thinking clearly of what is was that he was saying. "I am alone."

"Fenris…not all magic is bad, nor are all mages bad," Hawke whispered and he raised his gaze to meet her almost sad one. He almost instantly regretted what he said, but how could he not think that? Magic was a curse, even to those who chose to wield it correctly, like Hawke. "You're not alone, Fenris."

"You heard what Varania said. I wanted these," he spat bitterly, looking at the markings he could see etched into the skin of his arms. "I _fought_ for them. I feel unclean, like this magic is not only etched into my skin, but has also stained my soul."

"Fenris…"

"I need to get out of here. I'm sorry," and then he retreated, brushing past her and leaving her to watch the door of the Hanged Man close behind him, reminiscent of a night so long ago.


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N: **This was overdue for an update. Hatseput and TIM will be happy, I'm sure. Thank you everyone for your reviews, alerts, and favorites! They make me so happy!

Disclaimer: Bioware

* * *

**A Wolf and Mage's Uneasy Path**

**Chapter Twelve**

* * *

Fenris was awash with so many feelings, he was afraid he was finally losing his mind. He'd stormed back to his mansion and had thrown his sword across the room, screaming his frustration. Even though his now former master's blood stained his hands, he felt no freer than he had when he had been in chains, whether literally or figuratively. The chair followed, then the benches, and he even flipped the table. Never did he feel so…so…To the Void! There wasn't even a word for it! He was just so damned angry, bitter, his brands nearly afire as he tore through his room. He wanted to bring Danarius back to life just to squash his heart in his hands and kill him again. Over and over, until these feelings washed away in the river of that damned man's blood. Maybe, just maybe, then Fenris could move on and have some semblance of a normal life.

"Fenris?" The question of his name was posed warily from the doorway and Fenris froze, his chest heaving as he struggled to reign in his anger. The last person who deserved his lashings stood in the doorway. He didn't want to hurt her, not any more than he already had.

"Hawke. It would be best if you just…leave," he muttered, his lyrium brands flickers as he stood straight and sucked in a deep breath.

"I…" she sounded hesitant and he knew if he were to turn around, he would see her biting her lower lip. The image made him ache, as he had been for so long. He wanted to go to her more than anything, but he knew he was a coward. "I just wanted to see if you were alright…" she sighed the words softly.

"I am fine!" He snapped, more harshly than he intended and he swore he could feel her flinch.

"Yes…I can see that." She murmured and he knew she was surveying the damage he'd done to the room.

"Please, just go…I…" He grit his teeth, his hands balling into fists. Before he knew it, he'd turned toward her and was approaching her at a curious pace. She didn't flinch, even as he turned her and pinned her against the wall, smashing his lips down on hers. Her arms came up quickly around his neck and she made a noise of pleasure that shot straight to his shaft, making him groan. He allowed the kiss to go on, lips and tongues melding together, teeth clicking against each other's, before with a growl, he tore himself away. "_Festis bei umo canavarum,_" he muttered the words as he pressed his forehead to hers', sucking in a steadying breathe.

"It's obvious that you're upset, Fenris…" She whispered, her voice trembling as she unwrapped her arms from his neck and slid her hands down to press against his chest. He shuddered before drawing back away from her, missing the frown that curved her lips as he turned away.

"It means you will be the death of me," he sighed with a shake of his head.

"I had no idea," she chuckled as she walked toward him, her footsteps nearly silent, and pressed a hand to his shoulder. "I am here to talk if you need to, Fenris."

He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Six years ago I decided to stay with you, in part because I owed you. But I also thought you could help me. And you did." He tore away from her and kicked on the benches as he had before. "Hadriana is dead. Danarius is dead. I am finally free. But none of it feels like it should." He scowled as he turned to face her. "This freedom taste like ashes."

"Fenris…" She smiled softly, reaching for him but when he drew away, she dropped her hand with a soft shake of her head. "You were already free, Fenris. Killing Danarius was just revenge…not that I am saying you shouldn't have killed him. I would have if you didn't. Bastard deserved it."

He sighed and shook his head, letting out a long breathe to try and calm himself. "You are not responsible for my misery. Why am I angry at you?"

"I don't think you are angry at me." She smiled again, softly, same as before. "I think I am just…in proximity."

He felt himself give an ever so slight answering smile. "Perhaps." He paced away from her, his brands finally easing and no longer illuminating in the semi lit room. "I thought finding Varania would open up a whole new world, one that was lost forever. But it's gone and I can't get it back."

"Fenris –"

"What do I do now, Hawke?" He asked as he turned away, cocking his head as he stared at her. She looked torn, a variety of emotions flickering through her eyes before she smiled, almost regretfully.

"What do you want to do, Fenris?" Her voice trembled and she glanced away, moving and resting back against the wall where he had pinned her moments ago with a violent kiss. He licked his lips; Maker smite him, but he wanted to do it again. And again.

He smiled almost wryly. "Clearly making decisions for myself isn't one of my better qualities…something we both know very well."

She chuckled and nodded as her eyes came back to him. "I guess we do, though we both have been known to screw up a time or two."

He sighed. "Maybe it is time to leave this hatred behind. It's poison, yet I continue to swallow it. There is no one left to blame. What I have done I have done to myself."

"It's a realization we all face at some point, Fenris. I have said the very same to myself." She pushed herself up from the wall. "I am here if you need me. You don't have to go through this alone, you know."

"Don't I?" He asked, so softly he was aware that she may not have heard him. "We…we haven't discussed what happened between us…"

"Stop, don't Fenris. I…" She sighed and moved to the door, her body giving a soft tremble he caught with his gaze. Was she afraid? Or tempted? "I can't…"

"Hawke – "

He took a step toward her and she looked over her shoulder, shaking her head faintly. "I came here to see if I could help you, but this…I'm sorry, I can't, not yet…" And then she left, despite his vocal protest, leaving him to stand there feeling strangely empty. Like he'd lost a part of himself in that moment and he wasn't certain if he could get it back.

* * *

Hawke almost felt uncomfortable to have Fenris with her after that afternoon, but he was by far their strongest and Varric's information seemed sketchy at best. That was also her reasoning for bringing Anders, as he was by far the most talented mage in their group in the art of healing. She couldn't deny that the atmosphere was tense, but she couldn't let her relationships affect the cohesion of her group. When it came to battle, they had to work together, or else they would all pay the price. To her surprise, as they waited in the cold night air of hightown, there was no bickering, no glowering, just…silence. She found that almost as…disconcerting.

Once the silence had stretched on for too long, Hawke sighed and stopped her pacing to turn her pale eyes to Varric. "And of course there is no one," she chuckled, as she half shrugged.

"All I know is it had something to do with you and nobles. Edge if usually very reliable," Varric defended with a somewhat nervous laugh; not all that reassuring.

"This is normally when we're ambushed," Fenris said, drawing Hawke's eyes to him with raised brows. He'd spoken for the first time the entire night, well – that was a start.

"Why?" Varric exclaimed with a roll of his eyes. "It's not always an ambush." Hawke would have said something but suddenly there were bodies popping out from behind stands, out of the tree, off the edges, and arrows being notched in bows, daggers being drawn. Varric sighed. "Alright, maybe sometimes it's an ambush."

Hawke chuckled and shook her head as a blonde man approached her, his arms outstretched. "And there is the Champion of Kirkwall." She nodded her head in greeting. "You die today."

"Why am I not surprised?" She sighed dramatically.

A dagger flew through the air with a low whistle, imbedding itself in the man's shoulder who cried out in pain as blood spurted. Hawke's gaze was drawn to the source, a red headed elf on the rooftops. Well now – what exactly was going on? She watched as the elf jumped from the rooftop athletically, and took out more than half the attackers, before running up the man she'd originally stabbed and slitting his throat as he cried out "kill her! Kill all of them!". The elf turned and licked her lips with a smile.

"Well what are you waiting for?" She asked sweetly, before jumping back into the fray with Hawke and the others on her heels.

* * *

"Sloppy," the elf mumbled as she stood from where she had been crouched beside one of the corpses. She came toward Hawke, who watched her carefully. "You'd think the Crows would be better at this. They've been doing it for ages."

"Interesting entrance," Hawke chuckled. "You have some fine moves, some I haven't even seen Isabela pull."

The elf chuckled. "I do, don't I?" To Hawke's surprise, she half curtsied and nodded. "My name is Tallis. I have been looking for you."

"Looking for me?" Hawke sighed as she shook her head. "Why am I not surprised?" Vaguely she heard Fenris chuckle and she half turned to glare at him, but he only smirked. Blighted elves, she mumbled to herself as she returned her eyes to Tallis.

"Looking for the woman who has an invitation to Chateau Haine, to be specific."

"Ooooooh," Varric exclaimed. "That's what Edge was on about! You remember? Duke Prosper, the one who fawned all over you at the Champion of Kirkwall banquet. He talked about a hunt."

Hawke shuddered and she heard Anders' grunt; they both apparently recalled the way the Duke had nearly been throwing himself upon her that night. She wanted to gag, just thinking about the man's hand on her. "How could I forget?" Hawke drawled dryly.

"The duke is a delightful host – or so I hear," Tallis chuckled.

Hawke wasn't fooled by the rather cute appearance of the elf, not when the nagging sensation didn't dissipate even after the ambush had been taken care of. She narrowed her eyes thoughtfully as Tallis walked a couple of feet away, before she turned to look at her with a brow raised. "Let me guess," Hawke sighed, "this isn't just a social call?"

"I need to relieve him of something he has no right to possess. And I can't do it alone," Tallis confessed, making Hawke pause at the slightly desperate note she could hear in the elven woman's voice.

"You want to rob him?" Hawke cocked a brow.

Varric threw out his arms with a slight laugh. "Well, stealing from Orlesians is never wrong. Or so I've been told."

"There's always a catch," Anders said and Hawke glanced at him with an amused, I-know-what-you-mean expression. He chuckled and shook his head, tapping his staff pointedly. "Nobody ever helps unless there's a catch."

Tallis sighed, though a slight smirk pulled at her lips. "This isn't how I was planning to ask you this. I was picturing an introduction with…less blood."

"I imagine if we did this, we would do it together?"

"That's the idea. Or did you…have something else in mind?" Tallis smiled coyly at that and Hawke felt herself blush; was the elf insinuating what she thought she was? Maker's breathe! She hadn't meant _that_.

"What did you have in mind, Hawke?" Fenris voiced, turning a slightly narrowed gaze upon Hawke's flushed face.

She shook her head frantically, coughing to clear her suddenly dry throat. "I just thought we should get to know one another if we were going to work together!" She exclaimed with a groan, turning her eyes away from Fenris' disgruntled face.

"I think I'd like that," Tallis giggled.


	13. Chapter 13

**A/N: **Sorry the updates have been sporadic; working at it, muse has been a little uncooperative lately.

Disclaimer: Bioware

* * *

**A Wolf and Mage's Uneasy Path**

**Chapter Thirteen**

* * *

The first night they camped on their way to Chateau Haine was awkward, at best. Hawke sat beside the fire, absently chewing on the meat of a rabbit Tallis had roasted over the camp fire. Fenris and Anders glowered over their portions, in a sour mood ever since they had left Kirkwall; for the life of her, Hawke couldn't place why. Yes, the three of them – it was tenacious, if anything. Oh what a tangled web we weave, she sighed mentally. Everything happened for a reason, as Sebastian often said, and everything would work out in the end. For now, she needed time and they would just have to give that to her.

"Is it good?" Tallis piped up from beside her.

"Oh, yes, of course it is. Thank you, Tallis." She gave the elf a charming smile, before taking another bite though she didn't have much of an appetite to speak of.

"Good! I had worried it wouldn't be what a Champion like you would be used to."

"Tallis, relax." She chuckled. "I wasn't always a Champion."

"Oh yes, I had heard the stories. What was life in Ferelden like?"

Hawke sighed with a slightly exasperated smile on her lips; Tallis seemed to be full of questions when it came to Hawke and her past. And not to mention, flirty. Hawke would think she'd be used to being flirted with by a woman, having been around Isabela for so many years. Tallis was…different, than her usual company. After the way things had been lately, it was almost a breeze of fresh air. She glanced at Fenris and Anders out a morbid misguided sense of curiosity; both had their eyes on her, equally troubled expressions on their features.

"Lothering was interesting," she said finally, dropping her gaze to the fire but only just enough so that she could still see the men's faces. "Bethany and I had to be…vigilant, keep ourselves hidden from the Templars." Anders flinched, his jaw tight – not an usual response to the topic of Templars. "Father taught us well. As long as we kept ourselves in normal attire, and did not carry a stave, we could keep out of sight easily enough; it can be hard to channel magic without one, though. A fatal flaw if we were ever caught unaware. We lived a meager life, as did all of us in Lothering…farmers, traders, that sort of thing."

Tallis leaned in close and when Hawke glanced at her, she caught a mischievous look in the elf's eyes. "And what of boys? Some torrid, romantic doomed love?"

Hawke chuckled, almost forgetting the two men that sat with them beside the fire in the middle of the night. It was hard to not get caught up in Tallis. She made her think of things long past, things she had hoped to forget when she and her family had fled the town awash in flames and darkspawn. "There…was a man, once."

"Oh, do tell."

A wary glance at the men had her halting. Both appeared disgruntled by the topic at hand, but she set her lips into a thin line; why did she gauge their reactions to her every word? It was as if she toed a very thin line behind them, letting them lead her every word and action. How long had she been revolving her life around them? She couldn't let them define who she was, or lead her on whichever path they would choose. She was her own woman. She had to remember that, even if her heart was treacherous in its longing for a certain elf's companionship.

"I listened well enough to my father, followed his lessons intently; I was curious about the Templars though. Why they could hate us so, just for being born with gifts the Maker gave to us." She could see that Anders was uneasy, sparing her a confused expression, though little else. "I never thought of my magic as a curse. I always considered it a gift, even if…others," a slight glance at Fenris and she caught his shame before he managed to smother it, "tried to convince me otherwise."

"So I take it this boy was a Templar?" Tallis was leaning closer, as if enamored by her story. Hawke couldn't help but chuckle.

"He was a sweet man, not at all what I expected a Templar to be – "

"I've met the Templars in Lothering. None of them are sweet," Anders scoffed.

"Really, Anders, not all Templars are pure evil," Hawke snapped, almost impatiently. "If you want them to believe that every mage is an individual, and not every mage is evil, then you have to apply the same. You bitch and bitch, but you judge the same – you hold every Templar accountable, even if there are innocents within their ranks. Like my brother."

Anders had the good grace to look ashamed, though his tightened jaw indicted her of his barely restrained anger. "I am not like them," he mumbled.

"No, of course you aren't." Hawke sighed. Oh what she would give to read his thoughts. He was probably disgusted with her, disappointed, maybe even disgusted that he had lain with someone who'd been…intimate with a Templar. Of course he would, given the way he was these days in his vendetta against the Chantry and the Templar Order. She wanted to think he was better than that, but…she honestly didn't know if she had it in her after what happened in the Vimmark Mountains. He wasn't Anders, not entirely. Justice bubbled far too close to the surface, far too close for any of them to realize, even Anders. "I think I will call it a night." She said her goodnights and retired to her tent with a sigh, stretching out on the bedroll determined to get some sleep.

* * *

"You're pathetic."

"Excuse me?" Anders' brows rose sharply as his eyes turned to find the source of the insult.

"You heard me, mage."

Anders' lips pressed together tightly as he fought the snide remarks already teasing the tip of his tongue. Figures the elf would wait for Hawke and Tallis to retire before picking a fight with him. Maker, he was so sick of this, yet he was also eager for it; let the elf give him an excuse to beat him black and blue. The idea thrilled him, which in turn, frightened him. He didn't like the thoughts swirling around in his mind these days, the ones he could catch. Often there were…blanks. Black voids in his mind and memories, as if taken from him by someone who didn't want him to have access to whatever it was those voids contained. He knew it was Justice, but when he had merged himself with the Spirit, he had given up himself. The Spirit could do whatever it wished with him and he would be none the wiser…like when Hawke had suffered near strangulation at his hands.

Perhaps Fenris was right, perhaps he was pathetic. "Think whatever you wish, Fenris." Anders sighed as he stood, turning a somber gaze to the elf. "It will not matter in the end what you think of me. I will be in many thoughts, on many voices, never doubt that."

Fenris' eyes narrowed, as if Anders had spoken a threat. In a way, he may have; he knew it was only a matter of time before Justice did something that would forever doom them and…given the Spirit's behavior as of late, Anders knew it would be no small thing. Justice was planning something, something that would change the world and he had already dragged Hawke into it. He wished the Maker would at least forgive him that. Hawke should have remained innocent of all this…

"You will leave Hawke out of whatever plans your twisted spirit has in mind," Fenris growled, drawing his attention.

"You would do wise not to threaten me," Anders snapped without thinking, that faint blue aura tickling around the edges of his presence. Fenris bristled, his lyrium brands lighting in the proximity of the spirit's magic. Their eyes remained locked, and they glared openly at each other; two wolves, taking stance as Alpha and refusing to budge. Neither would tuck their tail between their legs and admit submission.

"I will not sever your head, mage, because for some reason – beyond my comprehension – Hawke still cares for you. You keep that in mind on your bloody path to vengeance."

"You…You are the last one to talk!" Anders growled in annoyance. Fenris was the most violent creature – besides fade demons and abominations – that Anders had ever known. Who was he to lecture him on his path of vengeance? Hadn't Fenris bathed himself in his master's blood and who would have done the same to his blood sister – his _mage_ sister – if Hawke hadn't intervened?

"True…but I would not drag Hawke into hell with selfish ambitions." Fenris paced away from him and folded his arms over his chest. "That's the difference between you and I, Anders. You will allow your spirit to use Hawke, then discard her."

"You did the very same thing!" Anders growled as he stalked toward the elf, shoving him hard with a hand so that the elf turned a deadly glare on him. "She came to me that morning, you know, and I could see the pain that she was in, caused by you who had screwed her, then left her without so much as a 'wham bam, thank you ma am.' I may have been a replacement for you, but I loved her! I never used her the way that you did!"

"No! You did worse you damned abomination!" Fenris shoved him back, both their auras begin to bristle in their little standoff. "I never wrapped my hands around her throat and tried to kill her! I may have asked her for help, but I never roped her, or coerced her, into helping me with revenge at the expense of her wellbeing! Whatever you have planned, you know it will end badly for her!"

Anders growled, grabbed Fenris' collar, and raised his fist, ready to punch the damned elf in the face, but he couldn't. He knew the elf spoke the truth and he couldn't hit him for the truth. With a half tormented groan, he dropped Fenris and paced away from him. He took long strides away until he stood at the edge of the campsite, his hands balled into fists as he glared at the dirt.

"You know I speak the truth, Anders. Spare Hawke the pain you will bring with your betrayal." Anders said nothing but it was apparent Fenris was finished with his speech. He could hear the elf's retreating steps as he retired to his own tent.

Anders didn't move. Not until Hawke came out in the early morning hours and greeted him. He gave her his best reassuring smile, at odds with the turmoil within every fiber of his being. His mind was chaos, his soul tormented; Fenris was right…it would only be a matter of time before Hawke was dragged along Anders' bloody path of destruction straight into the Void.

He had to save her and Fenris, as much as he loathed the thought, was the key to doing exactly that.


	14. Chapter 14

**A/N: **I apologize for the long pause in updates. Real life got me busy/stressed there for a while. I hope the newest chapter will have been worth the wait! Enjoy, and if you feel so inclined, please do leave a review. ^^ They bring motivation like you wouldn't believe!

Disclaimer: Bioware

* * *

**A Wolf and Mage's Uneasy Path**

**Chapter Fourteen**

* * *

Thinking something and actually doing it were two entirely different things; when Tallis asked Hawke is she was involved with someone, and he had seen that little, almost bitter, smile cross her lips, he realized he wanted her to himself, even if he was no good and after what he had done. He knew he had to set her away; she had already made it clear it was over and, when the end came – soon – finally, he knew it would truly be over then. But Maker help him, he loved her. To have seen her slipping away from him had been torture, but he'd had no other choice – let her go or destroy her. He much preferred the former; the latter was no acceptable, even if it meant he could keep her at his side until that time came.

The wyvern hunt went smoothly, besides the idle chit chat between Tallis and Hawke that often had his inner monologue wrapped up in a twisted rope of self-hate and doubt. They managed to attract an Alpha, of all the wyverns – leave it to Hawke to attract the leader of the beasts. Next, once the wyvern was dead at their feet, and they were covered in blood, they were invited back to the Chateau for a feast to celebrate Hawke's victory over the hunt(at least they were allowed to clean up first, he thought). Anders watched closely as she was awarded a belt as a prize, before he and Fenris were drawn off to the side to discuss the plan of action.

"I found us a way in, but we need a key. One the guards around here is bound to have it," Tallis mused.

"Sounds too easy," Hawke chuckled. "But, if you think it will work…"

"How is it too easy?" The elf demanded with a pouting lip.

"Going in through the door? How is that _not_ easy?"

"Hey – it's locked!" Tallis defended in mock anger. "I tried my hardest to pick it – lost a damn good set of picks to that blasted door. So it's not _that _easy."

"Alright, alright," Hawke held up her hands in defeat, shoulders shaking from the effort to constrain her amusement; Anders realized he hadn't seen her laugh like that in such a long time. The thought was sobering, to say the least. "Well, what's the plan then?"

"You and I shall look for the key while..." Tallis looked between him and Fenris, giving him and the elf a measured stare; Anders swore he saw a mischevious glint in her eye, as if she had some plan he were unaware of. "They could hide, or keep watch, while we go about."

"Why without us?" Fenris spoke the words before Anders could, but at least their minds seemed to be on the same path - that Tallis was trying to take as much time alone with their leader(their ex-lover) as she could.

"The bodyguards don't need to be on her every step; during a party, they would usually wait until needed or called." Tallis huffed, crossing her arms almost defensively as if she were insulted that they thought she had ulterior motives.

"What do you wish us to do, Hawke?" Anders asked, ignoring the little red-headed elf for the moment; it didn't matter to him what Tallis wanted. He followed Hawke and her alone. He was certain - despite their differences - Fenris felt the same.

"Keep watch for now, I suppose," Hawke sighed with a roll of her eyes. She planted her hands on her curved hips and thoughtfully clucked her tongue. "Knowing my luck, something is bound to go awry. I would feel better knowing I had the both of you keeping an eye on me." And then she smiled, a genuine smile, one he hadn't seen directed at him for a long while - too long. He nodded and they stepped away from him and Fenris, moving to join the party to find the gaurd who harbored their key. He and Fenris moved to the other side of the courtyard and lounged in the shadows, out of sight but still positioned appropiately to see Hawke and Tallis.

There was silence for awhile as they watched Hawke mingle, watched as the irritation grew over her features; the key seemed to be migrating and it was increasingly frustrating her. "Is the little elf interested in Hawke?" Fenris asked, breaking the silence. He seemed thoughtful, but a bit irritated. Anders nearly scoffed at the irony; hadn't he had this same conversation with himself when things had first seemed to be devolping between Fenris and Hawke?

"It would appear that way. Jealous?" He couldn't resist the jab, though he felt a little low for it, looking at him from where he lounged against the stone wall with his arms folded across his chest.

Fenris scowled. "I will not divulge my feelings to you."

Anders didn't supress the scoff this time around. "Of course not."

"Don't test me, Anders. What I feel is none of your business, especially in regards to Hawke. She made it clear where you stand," Fenris jabbed this time, smirking when Anders visibly flinched.

"Thanks for the reminder. Ass." Anders snarled the words, returning his gaze to the party. He narrowed his gaze, ignoring Fenris' deep chuckle; he couldn't seem to find Hawke. "Where did she go?"

"Hm?" Fenris pressed his hands to the wall behind him, pushing himself to stand and letting his gaze wander over the bodies gathered in the courtyard. "I don't see her either. She wouldn't go in without us, would she?"

It was Anders' turn to scowl; she wouldn't, but he wouldn't put it past Tallis to try and convince Hawke to leave them behind at the party. "She knows it's not safe..."

"Perhaps." Fenris folded his own arms. "A job is never as easy as it seems, however."

"You don't have to tell me." Anders sighed. "Let's wait a bit longer."

* * *

They shouldn't have waited, Fenris mentally chastised himself as he and Anders ran down the hall they were in, inside of the Chateau. No sign of Hawke, or Tallis, for hours, so they had infiltrated, to see what had become of them. Fenris feared the worst - that the red-headed little elf had gotten Hawke captured, or worse, killed. Maker help that elf if any harm had come to Hawke; he'd gut her himself. This job had reeked of trouble since the moment Tallis had shown up in Hightown during the Crows ambush; he knew better than to trust her, but Hawke was...trusting, naive, caring - she put her neck out for anyone who needed or asked for her help.

"I told you we should have gone the other way," Fenris snapped angrily as they stopped to catch their breathe.

"Like I would trust you to find Hawke," Anders scoffed as if the thought was highly amusing.

"I will always find her!" Fenris snarled, shoving the mage; his worry and anger mixed, making him edgy, almost feral. It was times like these he really felt like he had the nature of a wolf; to protect his mate, stomp down the competition, and the fierceness that rose in him when Hawke was in danger. He loved her, he was not about to let her come to harm now, not after how much they had been through and how far they had come.

"Stop taking it out on me!" Anders growled as he shoved him back. He fisted his hands at his sides and looked down at his feet, his jaw tense. "I am worried about her too. I feel like I lose my mind when she is in danger. It's not just you, elf."

Fenris wanted to snap at him, punch him, hurt him; wanted to do something that would bring him pain, but he couldn't, not when he knew the mage was speaking the truth. Fenris' emotions were making him irrational. He sucked in a deep breathe to call himself, looking around the room they were in. "Fine," he snapped. "Let's turn back and take the stairs; I'm certain it was the right way."

"Fenris - "

"Anders - we tried your way and we have been wandering for almost half an hour. Let us at least try my way." He glared at the mage, but implored him to listen as he continued, "I would never risk losing time. I _know_ it's the right way. We _will_ find her."

Anders looked as if he wanted to argue, but after a long, tense moment of staring each other down, he nodded. They turned around and back tracked. It didn't take them long to find the stairs, taking them down into a kitchen where they found her equipment; they proceeded through it and, just as he knew they would, they came out in a hall lined with cells. They picked up their pace, both nearly sprinting down the hall now to round the corner, almost running head on into Hawke and Tallis.

"Maker!" Hawke exclaimed as she reared back. "You surprised the hell out of me." She sighed with exasperation, though Fenris saw the smile that threatened to break out over her lips; she was happy to see them. It made his belly roll, as if she invoked a fluttering nervousness there. Maker, but she was so beautiful, with eyes that could sway the deadliest of enemies - or so he thought.

"Thank the Maker you're safe!" Anders stepped forward and wrapped his arms around her, giving her an awkward hug; she let it last a moment, meeting Fenris' eyes over the mage's shoulder, before pulling back with a nod.

"Seems we were a bit late in our rescue," Fenris mused as he handed off her equipment, watching as she wrapped her slim fingers around the stave, their fingers brushing ever so slightly.

"Tallis got tired of waiting," Hawke grinned cheekily with a shrug, retreating back to where he almost - almost - didn't see the slight stain of red on her cheeks.

"What happened, Hawke?" Anders turned his suspicious glare onto Tallis, who actually appeared to shrink under it.

Hawke glanced at Tallis, who sighed and nodded, before she looked back to them with a soft sigh of her own. "It's a long story."

* * *

A blasted Qunari! They were _helping _a Qunari! Why, Fenris had no blighted idea. Hawke should have been the last person Tallis sought out for help, given the fact that she had been given her title for slaying a whole slew of Qunari and their Arishok. Maker, the messes this blighted woman willingly got herself into - it made him furious. And yet...

Hawke hung back with him as Anders and Tallis took the front, leading the way down the mountain where they would confront Tallis' teacher and the Duke. He fought over the words, wrestling with them, but finally he let them slip out quietly, making him uncertain if she would actually hear him. "Don't do that again," he breathed.

"Excuse me?" Hawke turned her eyes to him, actually ceasing her walk at the surprise his words envoked. "Do what?"

"I...I was worried," he mumbled, looking away from her. "Please, don't do that again. I had thought..."

"Fenris," she gave an exasperated sigh, but he could hear the smile in her voice. It brought his gaze back to her, the look on her face almost bringing him to his knees; she looked happy, as if his worry was the most precious gift she could have recieved in this moment. She glanced away, and he followed suit, to see Anders and Talli disappear around the curve of the trail. His jade eyes slid back to her and found her staring at him with an expression of longing, one he had not seen since the last time they had been together.

He took a step closer and she didn't retreat, in fact, she took a step forward as well, until they stood almost chest to chest. He shuddered as he felt her breathe on his jaw; unable to help himself, he cupped her face with his gauntlets - carefully - and slanted his lips across hers'. He almost felt himself melt as she wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him back.


	15. Chapter 15

**A/N: **So it seems many of you were torn about the timing of the kiss; well, no worries, I fully intend to torture them a bit more. I want to thank Hatseput for her input, as usual. ^^

Thank-you for all your reviews and continued support! I luv you guys! And again, if you have a moment, please do leave a review for the newest chapter. Fics love attention. :3

Disclaimer: Bioware

* * *

**A Wolf and Mage's Uneasy Path**

**Chapter Fifteen**

* * *

Hawke felt herself letting go, and melted into Fenris without a second thought. Her arms, of their own volition, slid around his neck to hold him close as their lips melded. It felt slightly surreal, to be in his arms this way again, their lips parting, tongues sliding over one another to coax a moan from her. He growled and wrenched a hand in her hair, yanking her head back so that his lips could trail down her throat. His teeth scraped across her skin, before pinching it, nipping at the delicate flesh as she shuddered in his arms; it all came back to her then – his initial betrayal, running off to Anders in her pain, cheating on Anders with Fenris, Anders trying to kill her, and now this – and she wrenched herself from him, a mind blast of her magic creating a space between their heaving bodies.

He was staring at her, eyes dark with lust. She felt her body tingling with awareness, an ache for him she had buried long ago, and stubbornly trampled it down. "Hawke - " he said her name and reached for her, but she shook her head and took a step back.

"Fenris..." She mulled silently, lips pressed together thinly as she tried to find the right words. If there were any right words. It was a tenacious moment, fragile, at best. She didn't get long to think, someone nearby cleared their throat interrupting her thoughts.

Her heart dropped when she saw Anders' stormy expression; troubled eyes, red hued cheeks, brows drawn tightly together. Maker, he must have seen what had just passed between she and Fenris. "I don't mean to...interrupt," he snapped, making her bristle, "but Tallis noticed you were gone and we are close to the meeting place."

"Be there in a minute," she snapped back, a little more harshly than she intended. He bristled, his eyes narrowing, before he growled and turned, stomping off. Curse the man's jealousy at times. This hadn't exactly been planned – or a good idea – but she didn't need to feel like a scolded child because of him; he'd made his own bed, just as she had. That didn't mean she _liked _hurting him, though, but there was no way the three of them would come out of this unharmed – they'd all been hurt, but someone would come out of this even more hurt. That knowledge made her more hesitant than anything else.

"Hawke, we should go," Fenris' voice jolted her back to reality. She blinked and before she said anything, he stepped around her and began to walk down the path.

"Fenris - "

"Don't, it's fine. Let's...just go."

She sighed softly, but acquiesced and followed him without a word.

* * *

Anders was still stewing even as chaos exploded around them; his thunderous expression never faltered, and instead, only intensified as Duke Prosper launched his attack against her and her party. It seemed to go on for an eternity, Hawke's chest heaving and robes covered in blood as Duke Propser came to be before her, seated upon his mighty wyvern – Leopold. There was nothing between them and she knew she was no match; her only option was to roll out of the way, and hope the wyvern and Duke would fall from the edge of the cliff behind her. It worked and she found herself staring down at the man's face as he clung desperately to the edge.

"Help me, you daft woman! When Empress Celene learns of this, there will be war!" He snarled the words up at her.

"It's going to be my hand that either saves you or condemns you, and you choose to threaten me?"

"Just let him fall," Anders snapped from behind her.

"Lucky for him I'm not heartless," she muttered as she knelt and reached her hand out to him; she hadn't meant the words to be a jab at Anders, but she realized he could have easily taken it that way. The Duke spit on her hand and lost his grip, plummeting to his death below on the jagged rocks. She sighed as she stood, wiping her hand on her already ruined robes. "Damn fool."

They parted ways with Tallis; the elf gave her the jewel they'd originally come for, and Hawke agreed to let her leave with the list of Qunari agents stationed all over Thedas. It was a dangerous weapon, but Hawke knew it was in the right hands. That left just her, Anders, and Fenris to make the journey back to Kirkwall.

Lovely.

* * *

Anders tried to calm himself. He loved Hawke, and he had accepted that they were over, yet after he had witnessed the kiss between she and Fenris, he had not been able to stave off the anger that boiled up in response. He had just decided that Fenris was better for her in the end, but seeing that bloody elf's hands on Hawke was more than he could bare; perhaps he couldn't be as noble as he had hoped. It was in the midst of this whirlwind of thoughts that the ambush happened; before he knew what happened, raiders were swooping down upon them. It initially caught them off guard, but they were quick to recover, easily working as a unit to quell the threat.

Or so he had thought. Once the threat had passed, they regrouped and were set to keep moving, at least for a few more hours until the sun set, then they would make camp. They were just beginning to move away from the site when a wrench of warning went through him; something was wrong. He snapped around in time to see one of the raider's lifting his bow, despite his bloodies and battered body. Anders cried out a warning but the bow was already strung and the arrow was flying forward faster than his warning – straight for Hawke's back. His warning had her turning and Anders knew the shot would be fatal in its current trajectory; it would bury itself directly into her heart.

He flared his magic, hasting himself, and dove in front of Hawke, the arrow finding hold in chest, but closer to his shoulder; blood spurted and he grunted as he hit the ground, watching with gritted teeth as Hawke blasted the raider with a fireball. She dropped down by his side then, eyes running over him anxiously to fall upon where the arrow had imbedded itself.

"Anders. Maker, is it bad?" She smacked a hand down on her thigh, glaring down at him though he could see tears brimming in her eyes. "That shot was meant for me, you daft fool! I could have handled it!"

Anders shook his head, then groaned and let it fall back on the ground. "Couldn't let it...shot would have been fatal, Hawke. It would have hit your heart."

"He's right, Hawke." Fenris stepped up beside her, eyes narrowed down at Anders who just rolled his eyes and let them close, trying not to let the pain get to him. The arrow wasn't exactly pleasant and another confrontation with the elf wasn't exactly at the top of his priorities at the moment. "Doesn't mean I have to like it, but he's right."

"Doesn't matter!" She snapped out in irritation. Then she sighed softly, almost in defeat. He knew she was angry at him, but it was stemming from her worry, and the fact that she was so angry at him helped keep that dim candle in his heart aflame. Maybe she did still care for him, in her way – no, he couldn't let himself think that way. To be with him would only bring her pain in the end. "Anders I need you to sit up, you know what I have to do. We have to push the arrow through to get it out of your shoulder." She bit her lip the way she did when she was apprehensive.

"Hawke – calm down, it's okay. You can do this," he reassured her even as he grit his teeth with pain, hands finding purchase in the dirt so he could sit himself up.

"I'm no where near as good a healer as you, Anders. What if I screw this up?"

"You can do it," Anders said again.

"If she won't, I will." Fenris offered, but as Anders moved his eyes to the elf, he saw the slightly maniac look in his eye; of course he would jump at the first chance to cause him pain.

"I have no doubt about that, _elf_."

"Can't blame me, _mage_."

"Enough!" Hawke snapped out impatiently. She glared between them both. "Now is not the the time to be strutting and marking your territory, got it?" They both at least had the grace to appear ashamed, grumbling beneath their breathes as they nodded. "Good, now, to the matter at hand?"

"Shove it through, then break off the point so you can slide the shaft free." He didn't like the sound of that, hell, he knew he didn't. This wasn't the first time he'd be struck by an arrow. He watched as Fenris tore a red cloth from his wrist and rolled it up, before he held it out toward him. He had no idea where the cloth had come from, but he couldn't help but think it looked familiar, especially with the way Hawke seemed to be eying it. It was more the gesture, though, that had Anders looking at the elf oddly. Well, he knew better than to look a gift horse in its mouth; speaking of which – he put the rolled up cloth between his teeth and bit down on it with a nod as Fenris handed him his staff to grip, keeping a hold on it himself.

Hawke looked unsure but after a moment, she nodded as well. Her small hand took hold of the shaft and with a grunt, she shoved the arrow the rest of the way through him so that the point broke free from his back. He screamed around the make shift bit, his chest heaving and mana thrumming through his body to help alleviate the more intense points of pain; he couldn't try to heal yet, needing to conserve the mana for when she pulled the shaft free. He heard the wood split as she broke off the point, then she yanked hard on the shaft to pull it free; he nearly screamed again, his vision dancing with spots, but he steeled himself with his grip on the staff. Hawke's blood covered hands trembled as she dropped the shaft, and he let go of the staff and let the cloth drop out of his mouth. His body was trembling, and pale, he knew, but he took Hawke's hand in his and they closed their eyes. He felt her mana meld with his and together they sent it to his wound, healing it from the inside out. It was a tedious task, but as a healer, and she as a mage, they knew it was better to exhaust yourself to make sure a wound was completely healed or else you risked grave infection, which was much harder to fight.

Finally, they parted and their eyes opened. "Is it done?" Fenris snapped, as if he were irritated – but when it came to magic, when was the bloody elf _not _irritated?

"It's done," Anders sighed warily, his body heavy and exhausted. His mana reserves were empty and even Justice was weak; they would have to make camp here, or else he feared he'd pass out on the road. Hawke seemed to read his mind and nodded as she stood on somewhat shaky legs.

"Fenris, get rid of the bodies. Anders won't be able to get far, so we'll have to make camp here." She started to walk but faltered and Fenris was quick to catch her much to Anders' irritation. "I need rest as well, it seems," she chuckled breathlessly.

"Let me carry you," Fenris breathed quietly, but Anders still heard him and grit his teeth.

"Fenris..." She protested and tried to push away, but she lost her footing and Fenris scooped her up into his arms; with a defeated sigh, she let her head loll against the elf's shoulder as she set an arm around his neck. It wasn't Fenris that she looked at as the elf moved to set her on the grassy knoll not too far away, it was Anders and he held her gaze until she broke it.

He hoped he hadn't imagined the nostalgic longing he'd seen in those beautiful blue eyes. Perhaps playing hero had done more than save her life. Perhaps it had given him hope to hold on, if only for a little bit longer. For her.


	16. Chapter 16

**A/N: **It was brought to my attention that Hawke in this fic lacks a bit of...definition. I appreciate the constructive criticism, I really do – it helps me be a better writer. Thank you very much for being honest with me. This next chapter I hope will let us delve a little more of who Hawke is, and why she does what she does, and how she thinks; it was planned a bit this way, because we all love our bits of angst and drama. Lol. And again, if you have a moment after reading, please do leave a review! :D

Disclaimer: Bioware can have their toys back when I am done playing with them...

* * *

**A Wolf and Mage's Uneasy Path**

**Chapter Sixteen**

* * *

Hawke sat at her desk, tapping her quill pen in some non-consequential rhythm. Two letters sat open before her, two options, two paths – each of which she felt would forever change everything.

_Champion,_

_You have proven yourself a friend of order in this city, and I find myself in need of your support once again. Dire events are underway at the Gallows which could tear the city apart. I believe the Champion's appearance could make all the difference, and thus I ask you to come as soon as possible._

_Knight-Commander Meredith_

She sighed, still tapping the pen, and pulled the other letter to lay before her.

_Champion,_

_You have proven yourself a friend to Kirkwall's mages and it seems I must call upon you once again. Meredith has gone too far and I will not let her madness remain unchecked. I ask that you come to the Gallows at once. Perhaps together we can stop this before there is bloodshed._

_First Enchanter Orsino. _

Maker, why did everything always break down to a choice? No, it wasn't even that – why did everything always fall to _her? _Being the eldest had been bad enough; her father had always relied on her to be the best she could possibly be, the leader, and now, ever since having come to Kirkwall, it seemed everything revolved around her; that if she were to disappear, everything would fall to pieces. Everyone looked up to her, most admired her, and it was as if every soul in Kirkwall expected her to fix every problem that came along.

She was too giving, at times. Always doing for others what they needed without so much as a thought for herself. It was how she was raised. It left her...indifferent to her own struggles; left her...indecisive. She had just learned to follow the tide, go with the flow; that's how the Templar had happened.

She was fickle. She knew that. Selfless in the giving to the others, but selfish of her family and friends. This situation with Anders and Fenris...it sickened her, in all honesty. What kind of woman was she to have created such a mess? Maker, she hoped she wasn't turning into Isabela (she loved her pirate friend, but she didn't want to end up like her, so promiscuous and nonchalant about it). She couldn't blame anyone other than herself; perhaps things would have sorted themselves out had she not run to Anders that day like the weak willed, indecisive, woman she knew herself to be, yet hid so well.

Hawke was disgusted with herself...how Anders and Fenris were not was beyond her. Perhaps they were disgusted with her, fluctuating between the two of them like some adolescent lass; perhaps they just hid it well enough for her not see. She didn't want to be alone, but this...Maker – she scrubbed her hands over her face – when had she become so needy?

She narrowed her eyes on the letters in front of her; it wasn't as if it mattered any longer. There was no room for selfishness when the world around you was slowly falling to pieces, more so than it already had – her father was dead, her sister was dead, her mother was dead, and her brother was a Templar, likely to strike her down if she sided with the mages against the mighty Knight-Commander Meredith. Was she so desperate to replace her family that she was stringing along anyone who would follow her?

Her hands slammed down on the surface of her desk as she shoved herself from her seat, eyes glaring down at the letters. She was suddenly so angry. Livid, really. Her whole family had been taken from her, then Fenris had used her and left her, and even Anders – sweet Anders – had tried to kill her; Isabela had betrayed her (though she'd had an attack of guilt and returned to help her face the Qunari, but what she had done initially was still there, in the bitter part of her heart). The letters were crunched in her hand as she walked away from the desk into the study, where she promptly threw the letters into the fire lit in the hearth. Her eyes watched, almost cruelly, as they burned.

She turned on her heel and left the study, climbing up the steps angrily as she headed for her private chambers. Her foot kicked the door shut behind her, slamming it.

"You are a stupidly pathetic, fickle woman," she sighed angrily, to herself. "This is all your fault." Her feet carried her to her own hearth where she summoned enough of a fireball to light a fire. She knelt down beside it and combed her fingers through her hair. "I have to let them both go...it's for the best." Even as she said it aloud, to herself, acknowledging it for the first time, tears built up reluctantly in her eyes, spilling over to slide down her pale cheeks as anger gave way to sadness.

"_Fenris_..."

They would be better off without her.

* * *

Anders was trying his best not to let it get to him – hadn't he just told himself days ago that Fenris was the better choice for Hawke, given the what was going to happen in the near future? – but to hear her say she had to let them both go, but only seem to despair over the loss of that damned elf, was beyond frustrating. It made him angry. He hadn't felt this angry except when it came to the Templars.

_What am I doing here? _He thought bitterly, turning around and climbing back over the ledge of the balcony, hanging off the bottom of it to let himself drop to the pavement below. Hawke was in pain, but not over him. She was hurting over that elf of hers. Apparently that look that had passed between them had meant nothing, was just a momentary lapse of her better judgment.

He growled, blue energy crackling around him in agitation.

If she couldn't make the choice, and chose to throw them both away instead, he might as well do it for her.

* * *

Fenris jolted out of his drunken sleep when a loud crash reverberated through his mansion, his grip loosening on his bottle causing it to crash to the floor. His markings burned and flared, warning him of magic nearby. Loud steps echoed as he jumped out of the chair, swinging up his discarded blade from where he'd dropped it onto the floor hours ago when he'd been determined to drown out his thoughts of Hawke. With a drunken stupor, if need be.

Anders – no, not just Anders; a mix of he and Justice. They stood in the doorway, that eerie blue fire swirling around to make Fenris' brands burn in such close proximity to a spirit of the Fade. Those empty, fiery, blue eyes bore into him, but they were ever so slightly tinted that amber hue that he knew to be Anders'. He was panting heavily, the luminescent cracks in his skin flickering as he tried to keep himself under control, hands clenching and releasing, over and over as they stared each other down.

"I loved her and I thought perhaps – _perhaps_ – there was still a way for us to work through this. That look...it was meaningful, I know it was!" Anders shouted the last words, his voice a deeper timbre, almost reminiscent of Justice; Fenris could see how close the mage was to losing himself, and simply chose to hold his ground. "This is all your fault! If you had just left us alone, it would have been fine! But now...but now..." his voice cracked slightly, before he grit his teeth determinedly. "But now she's chosen to throw us both aside! If you had never come along, never escaped your master, this would have happened so differently!" His magic bristled, fire beginning to brim around the edges of his hands. "It's too late for me now, that will be apparent soon enough but...this will be the only way she will be truly pain free; she may hate me for all eternity, but I'm doing it for her."

Before Fenris could prepare to block the hit, the fireball came rushing free from Anders' hands, straight at him, hitting the stone beneath his feet and sending him flying back into the wall. Fenris snarled as he steadied himself, rushing forward before the mage could attack again, gripping him by the throat and slamming him into the wall. Anders growled, but the elf held him there, squeezing just enough to make the mage cough for air every few seconds.

"Stop this you bloody fool!" He snapped at the mage. "It's about bloody time this has stopped! Do you think us killing each other is what she wants? If she has chosen to let us go, then so be it! This is not the answer!"

Anders glared at him, but slowly the fire died until it was just the mage sitting in Fenris' grip; once he was sure the mad wouldn't attack him, he released his grip and stepped back. Anders rubbed his neck with a grimace and a soft sigh. "She loves us both, Fenris...you know that don't you?" He muttered the words almost bitterly.

Fenris nodded.

"And that she loves you more than me?"

Another nod.

Anders sighed again, before moving around Fenris to find the half emptied bottle of ale and chug a big gulp of it down.

"I thought Justice didn't let you get drunk?" Fenris eyed the mage oddly for a moment before very warily taking a seat on the bench. Anders followed a moment after.

"He's changed," he muttered, taking another swig of the bottle. "He isn't some benevolent spirit of the Fade any longer...just some hungry entity bent on vengeance." His amber eyes gave Fenris a scrutinizing look over, before he said, "something I am sure you know all too well being an ex slave."

Where he would have normally snapped at the man, or said something argumentative, he knew there was no point; he'd been willing to kill his own flesh and blood for betraying him to become a Magister. He watched, almost thoughtfully, as Anders drank the rest of the bottle; he reached down and grabbed another, taking a drink of it despite the ache in his temples from all the drinking he'd done before he'd fallen into a tortured sleep. "He is so far gone, then?"

Anders nodded tensely.

"Anders," the mage almost jolted to hear the elf use his name – it happened so rarely. "What you have planned..." their eyes met and held, the air tense and quiet for a long moment before he continued on, almost reluctantly, "it's bad, isn't it?"

With a heavy sigh, Anders' gaze flitted away. His hand tightened around the neck of the bottle in his hand until his knuckles were white from the tension.

The heavy silence in the room, and the way Anders drank with him that night, was all the answer he needed.

It was coming soon.

And it was bad.


	17. Chapter 17

**A/N: **I apologize for the delay in updates. My computer decided to try and fry itself, but I'm happy to report it's working again and thus, somewhat regular updates will return. Thank you all for your patience, and again for all the reviews, favorites, and alerts! And thanks for 100 reviews! I've never reached that many on any of my Dragon Age fics and it makes me grin like an idiot! Thank you!

Disclaimer: Bioware

* * *

**A Mage and Wolf's Uneasy Path**

******Chapter Seventeen**

* * *

Passed out drunk was how Hawke found them the next morning. Anders hadn't been at his clinic when she had stopped by earlier on an errand(that's what she had told anyone who'd asked, at least), so she had opted to go to her next destination – Fenris' mansion. To her surprise, that's where she found Anders. Sprawled out on his back on the table, snoring loudly, one arm folded over his middle, the other hanging off the side; Fenris was similarly sprawled out, but on one of the benches instead of the table. There was a multitude of empty, and broken, wine bottles scattered around the room.

As much as the scene was surprising, she was glad it wasn't even more surprising. At least they were both still dressed and not cuddled up to each other.

She blushed when she realized that that image wasn't exactly...unappealing to her.

She mentally shook herself; this wasn't why she'd come to talk to them today. Hawke had originally wanted to speak to each of them alone, given what she'd decided the night before; a piece of heart belonged to each of them and it didn't seem fair to her to continue this song and dance of waffling back and forth between them. As it was, there didn't even seem to be time for personal problems when there were so many of Kirkwall's problems heaped upon her shoulders, but the selfish part of her told her to say 'screw Kirkwall'. The selfish part told her to go for what she longed for most and, as much as she knew it hurt Anders, that was Fenris.

It was despicable that she had ever run to Anders in the first place, but she hadn't wanted to be alone, had wanted – for a selfish moment – to know she was loved and not just 'an easy lay' or 'a mistake'; her selfishness is what had caused this mess and she wasn't about to listen to it again and make even more of a mess.

Anders groaned and Hawke was drawn from her inner turmoil to focus on the mage as he slowly came to. He sluggishly pushed himself up on elbows, blinking a few times, before his eyes landed on her. "H-hawke?" His voice was raspy, sleepy, the same tone she'd heard waking up beside him each morning. She smiled, if a little sadly.

"Have fun?" She nodded her head toward the wine-bottle-littered room and passed out Fenris.

He sat himself up the rest of the way, his hands soon after finding a hold on his temples(no doubt from the pounding in his head from all the wine he drank). She could feel his magic, see the subtle green hue around him, as he conjured it, and she knew he was using healing arts to cease the hangover pains.

Fenris cursed and Hawke turned to see his markings glowing slightly, eyes shooting open as he stumbled to his feet. "Magic?" He grunted out, blinking several times to let his sight adjust.

Obviously, he had drunk too much himself, Hawke sighed. "Sorry about that. Anders was just fixing up the ill effects of your night."

Fenris' eyes jumped to her as if he hadn't realized she was here; they widened every so slightly, then narrowed, his face carefully blank despite the ache in his temples she knew to be there. What she wouldn't give to find out what he was thinking? What they were both thinking, to be completely honest. They were both looking at her, though Anders' expression was easier for her to read than Fenris'(as always).

"Want me to help you out with yours?" She asked, swallowing the lump at her throat at the thought of touching him, especially with Anders sitting so close by.

Her question made him scowl. "No. I can handle it on my own," he replied gruffly and she wanted to sag at the feeling of defeat that came over her; even now, after all they'd been through, he still didn't want her help. _Things are better off this way_, she reminded herself sharply. "Did you need something, Hawke?" He asked then, tearing her away from her thoughts.

"Well...I went by the clinic looking for Anders and he wasn't there so..." She quirked a brow at them. "I was a little surprised to find him here."

"Ah well..." Anders sighed and rubbed the back of his neck as he slid to the edge of the table. "About that..." He glanced at Fenris who shook his head, so when he glanced back at her, he merely shrugged. It was Hawke's turn to scowl. He went on as if it wasn't a big deal that he was keeping the night's events a secret from her. "What did you need me for, Hawke?"

"I just wanted to talk to you about...something," she mumbled lamely, her scowl slipping away as she shifted uncomfortably. She certainly didn't want to have this talk right now, so she opted to just leave. "I obviously caught you two at a...bad time...I'll come by a different time." With that, she turned and left the room.

"Hawke wait - "

"Hawke!"

She paid them no heed and went quitely down the the stairs. She sighed once in the main alcove, shaking her head, before she went out the front door of the mansion. Something had happened between the two the night before, that much was clear, but for some reason Fenris had warned Anders away from speaking of it. She had come wanting to sever them from her so as to spare them anymore pain, but it seemed they had severed her, saving her the trouble. So then, if she had come to do the very same, why did it hurt so badly?

* * *

"You know she is going to think something crazy!" Anders snapped at Fenris after Hawke had left the mansion. His features were scrunched up in a scowl, and his eyes were narrowed angrily, but Fenris merely shrugged as the mage had done to Hawke.

"Perhaps that is better than her knowing you came to my mansion to kill me," Fenris huffed after a moment as he folded his arms across his chest. "I thought you would want her ignorant of that little bit, but if you like I can tell her for you." Anders' expression fell and he sighed, shoulders slumping. That was answer enough for Fenris. "I thought so."

"What in the Void are we supposed to do then _elf_?" Anders bit out, frustrated. "She has the wrong impression, I have no doubt."

Fenris didn't like that little bit himself. That she could have conceived all sorts of misconstrued ideas of what had occurred here the night before. Even now he ached to run after her, but Anders' angry words echoed in his mind - _But now she's chosen to throw us both aside! _If she chose to remove herself from their lives, who was he to chase after her? It wasn't what she wanted, was it? He didn't know anymore. He knew how he felt for her, had been a fool to walk away from her all those years ago, but he could do nothing now if she had made her choice. It wouldn't be right.

"Let her think what she wants," Fenris finally sighed, shrugging halfheartedly this time. "You are the one who told me she has chosen to remove herself from us, so what does it matter?"

Anders narrowed his eyes and growled. "You cannot possibly be alright with that!"

"Is that right?" He snapped back, his hands curling into fists.

"It is! If you felt anything for her, you couldn't...wouldn't want to let her think such things." Anders bit out the words, trailing off, but Fenris could hear the unspoken ones – _I know I wouldn't_.

"It doesn't matter!" He growled the words out stubbornly as he smashed his fist into a wall, watching with satisfaction as it cracked under his strength. Anders stared at him for a long moment before simply shaking his head and hopping off the table. He left without another word. And at the point, Fenris didn't really care.

* * *

His emotions seemed so out of control lately, even to him, Anders realized as he left Fenris' mansion, once more enraged with the blighted elf. He wasn't usually so...touchy. With Justice lurking ever so quietly in him, Anders was on edge. The spirit had even let him get drunk, something he hadn't allowed since their merging so many, many years ago. Maker, he knew what was coming, the spirit had talked him into it, and he agonized over it nightly. He wanted to stop it, after the argument with Hawke that had essentially ruined everything between them(well, before Justice had attacked her on top of it), but every time he marched to the Chantry to undo what he'd done, he'd black out and find himself back in his clinic as if he had never left.

It seemed inevitable. Something that, once it had been put into motion, could no longer be stopped.

_And she will hate you for it, _he reminded himself. Hawke, who he had decided to give up, who he had determined would be better off with the elf, who he longed for more than any other living being. Hawke, who was often so very understanding and forgiving. She would hate him for what was coming.

With determined steps he made his way to Hawke's mansion.

* * *

Hawke opened her door to insistent pounding, not entirely surprised to see a breathless Anders standing on her doorstep. One of them had been bound to chase after her, she reasoned. She sighed softly. "What is it Anders?"

"I need to talk with you Hawke," he said softly, almost hesitantly, but she could see a determined glint in his eyes that said she would be talking to him whether she wanted to or not. She nodded and stepped back, letting him inside, before shutting the door behind him. She walked him into her study and shut the door behind him, before seating herself on the loveseat she'd had placed in front of the hearth. Anders didn't sit, but instead began to pace back and forth in front of her, either nervous or agitated, or perhaps both. "Hawke I - "

"If this is about what it is that happened between you and Fenris last night, you don't need to bother. It was clear that it was none of my business," she interrupted him, her tone a little bit more bitter than she would have liked.

Anders stopped pacing and faced her with a scowl. "Maker's breath, Hawke! Nothing happened. We got drunk and passed out, that was all." He sighed and scrubbed his hand over his face. "No, that wasn't it – I went to his home to kill him. _Then _we got drunk and passed out."

"Really, Anders do you expect me - " She stopped, eyes widening as she realized what he'd just said. She was suddenly angry, clenching her hands tightly as she rose to her feet. "You went to _kill him_?" When he nodded, she nearly screeched, "_Why?_"

"That is...why I wanted to talk to you," he sighed and took a seat on the loveseat. After a deep breath to calm herself, Hawke followed suit with a sigh and sat beside him. They had been through so much together and she could at least listen to what he had to say, especially since it screamed of importance. She couldn't help but feel like this was a confession. One she kind of didn't want. It...it felt final. She hated finality. "Something is wrong with me, Hawke." He wrung his hands together in his lap, staring at them almost intensely with a shuddered amber gaze.

"Anders?" She posed his name as a tentative question, encouraging him to continue. "What is it?"

He was quiet for a very long moment and for a moment, Hawke was certain he'd changed his mind about this. Then, he sighed again and placed his hands together on the back of his neck. "I am out of control. One little thing sets me off and I...I don't know who I am anymore. I just...I wanted to come by, apologize for everything I've done to hurt you. I want you to have fond memories of me, not the cruel ones."

"Anders, why are you - "

"Just...don't. I know where are you going, what you will say. I'm not killing myself, if that's what you're thinking."

Hawke's frown intensified. She didn't know what to think; even if he said he wasn't harming himself, there was still such an air of finality to his words that had her nervous and anxious, like something bad was coming and he wanted her to forgive him, remember him as he was, before it was too late. "What did you do, Anders?" She whispered.

"Nothing," he smiled and dropped his hands, turning to her and gently cupping a hand to her cheek. When she moved to pull away, he slid his hand behind her neck and brought their lips together. Even if she didn't react, it was only a soft, gentle meeting of his lips to hers, brief. He pulled away before she realized what exactly was happening, but kept a hold on her neck. He stared into her eyes and she bit her lip, unable to find it in her to move away. "Promise me you'll remember the way I was," he sighed.

"I-I promise," she offered hesitantly.

"Can you ever forgive me for what I've done?"

"There..." she hesitated, but knew it was true; they had already moved beyond what he'd done to her. She may never forget it, may never lose the memory, but she had forgiven him because he was a good man. It was Justice that had warped him, his actions, shaping him into someone she had no longer recognized and, ultimately, had pushed them apart. "There is nothing to forgive, Anders."

He smiled, a truly happy smile, and her heart lit up at the sight of it; it had been a long time since she'd seen him smile like that. He gently withdrew from her and the loveseat, walking to the door of her study. He opened it and then paused. He glanced back at her and said with that smile, "thank-you, Hawke. For everything."

And then he left. If Hawke had known what was going to happen next, she never would have let him.


	18. Chapter 18

**A/N: **As always I want to thank everyone for their reviews! This fic is for you guys – it makes me ecstatic knowing you're enjoying it! I can't always get to individual replies for your reviews and for that I apologize, but I love every single one of them!

Disclaimer: Bioware

* * *

**A Wolf and Mage's Uneasy Path**

******Chapter Eighteen **

* * *

That nagging feeling wouldn't go away no matter what she did. She tried reading, tried cooking, tried talking to Bodahn and Sandal, had even tried waiting it out; none of it worked. Late into the evening, she finally gave up – she had to go find Anders. Everything that had led up to that talk they'd had made it seem anticlimactic. No matter how she remembered her conversation with him, the finality of it never disappeared. Something was wrong. Terribly wrong.

_'The clock is ticking down – it will be midnight soon.' _

Perhaps midnight had arrived. Maker no, she _had _find him. She refused to give up on him in the fight with Justice for his very humanity.

She left her manor in a hurry, not bothering to change out of her house clothes or grab a cloak. Out of habit she at least swept up her staff(her father had taught her to never be caught unaware and unable to defend herself). She went straight to his clinic. The lantern was off and when she slipped inside, she found it completely deserted.

"Anders?" No answer. She went to his meager bedroom and found it as deserted as the rest of the clinic. "Anders! Are you here? It's Hawke!" She waited, went back down to the clinic doors, but again received no answer. It didn't even appear that he'd returned here at all, or had even been in use recently. He was just...gone.

Her heart started pumping wildly within her breast and that terribly ominous feeling only intensified. She searched the whole of Darktown, the sewers, then Lowtown. Still nothing. She went to Varric who only shook his head and shrugged when she asked if Anders had been by The Hanged Man; she got similar responses from anyone in the tavern she questioned. Cursing under her breath, she left and headed for the docks. She took a boat to the Gallows and remained there for a time, listening to the guards to see if they had roped any new apostates this day. Her pursuit proved frivolous there as well. Heart heavy and mind running amok with wild ideas of what had happened to him, Hawke moved her desperate search to Hightown.

She checked her home again, asked Bodahn if Anders had come by; he said no, as all the others had. She checked her study, her own room, the balcony, even went so far as to check her mother's room(even though her mother had died, she hadn't had it in her to change anything in the room). She went down the back stairs and checked the basement since she knew it had a secret passage that led to Darktown and Anders' clinic. Nothing.

Back to Hightown and she searched the streets, every corner she could find; she went so far as to check the Keep and...the Blooming Rose, though she had to admit the burn of jealousy in her gut at the thought of Anders in the arms of one of those whores. Completely irrational she knew, but it didn't ease the burn. Not one bit. Much to her relief, she found no sign of him inside the brothel and the burn faded away to give return to her panic. Anders wouldn't be caught dead in the Chantry, she assumed, given what had occurred the last time they'd gone there together at his behest. Her last option was Fenris; she had caught the two in the aftermath of a night of drinking, perhaps he had returned to the elf for a repeat. It was early morning now, so late into the night, and she had searched nearly everywhere, Hawke was becoming desperate.

By the time she reached Fenris' mansion, Hawke was nearly in tears. Anders was just gone. Disappeared, as if he'd never been there in the first place. She knocked frantically on the door and after a few moments, and muttered eleven curse, it opened. Fenris stood there, only in his breeches, having no doubt been asleep, or heading that way. His eyes widened, no doubt surprised to find her there.

"Hawke?"

"It's Anders," she gasped out, her lip trembling. "He...he came by to talk this afternoon and he said some strange things; asking for my forgiveness, begging me to remember him as the man he was and not the man he's become. Something was wrong, so terribly wrong, but I couldn't place it," she rushed the words out, so quickly, in a panic, Fenris had to grab her shoulders and tell her to calm down. She took a deep breath, her hand impossibly tight around her staff. "I couldn't shake that feeling, Fenris. So I went to go to talk to him, but his clinic is empty. Deserted. I searched all over the city, the sewers, the Keep, even the bloody Blooming Rose." Tears spilled down her cheeks now. "Is he here? Please tell me he's here!"

Fenris stared at her a long moment, then sighed and shook his head. "I'm sorry, Hawke, but I haven't seen him since this morning."

Hawke's heart dropped to her stomach and she began to tremble, before her knees gave up and she collapsed onto her legs and rear on the cold stones beneath her. That terrible feeling was an unstoppable force now and she wept, shoving her face into her hands as sobs broke free from her one after another. Fenris stood by, not sure what to do, but after a long moment, he leaned down and swept the sobbing Hawke into his arms, lifting her up. She immediately wrapped her arms around his neck and burrowed her face against his shoulder as she cried. He carried inside the mansion, kicking the door shut behind him.

He took her up the stairs and sat in front of the fire, simply holding her shaking body in his lap as she cried. He stroked his bare hand over her hair. "Shh, Hawke. It's alright," he murmured as he leaned his head against hers. "I'm here."

"I-it's n-not alright," she sobbed. "H-he's gone."

"Knowing the mage, he has probably just holed up somewhere new," he assured her.

"N-no, you d-don't unders-s-stand...I _know_ s-something is w-wrong. It's been coming!" She cried, shaking violently in his arms and he tightened them around her comfortingly. "A-and now it's here. I k-know it. He's gone..." She wasn't sure how she knew, but she did. The next time they saw him, it would be different. That ominous feeling she'd put off for months, the warning signs she'd ignored, all of it was there now and she could see it. "Something b-bad is g-going to happen, F-fenris and I...I failed to stop it. F-failed to save him." She sniffled and shuddered. "I failed him."

"Hawke," Fenris sighed and pried her face from his shoulder, cupping her cool cheeks with his warm hands, staring down into her pale blue eyes. "Do you think he would want you thinking like this?" Her teeth bit into her lower lip as tears rolled down her already damp cheeks, even sliding against his fingers; it broke a small piece of his heart to see her so upset. He didn't want to see her hurt, not if he could help it, even if he had hurt her so harshly all those years ago. He brushed her tears away softly. "You didn't fail him, Hawke. You stood by him for so long and you helped him every time he came asking. You tried to be there for him, but ultimately it was _him _who turned his back and walked away. You have searched the entire city for him, you didn't give up on him, even if he already gave up on himself."

She sniffed and he couldn't help but think how cute she looked with her cheeks and nose tinted a soft red, eyes sparkling brightly due to her tears; not cute, she was beautiful, and he had never felt such a strong attraction to her as he did now. It wasn't even physical. It was as if he could feel his soul reaching out for her's. Maker, but he'd been a fool.

"Please, Hawke, stop crying. It breaks my heart to see you hurt so," he mumbled, brushing her tears away once again. Her lip trembled and he found himself unable to keep from brushing his thumb across it. She sucked in a harsh breath, it hitching in her throat as he caressed her gently, before he pulled his thumb away; his lips were quick to take its place, slanting ever so gently across her own, soft, yet insistent. She made a soft sound – a half sob, half gasp – before she allowed herself to melt into him, her arms tightening around his neck. His tongue brushed over her lip and she parted them so that it could slide within and stroke the hot recesses of her mouth and tease her own tongue with slick, expert manipulations.

After a long moment of indulgence, she tore her lips away and stared up at him with wide eyes, his heated jade gaze making her stomach fill with butterflies. "I...I don't think this is such a good idea," she mumbled, but there was no conviction in her voice, as if these were a last ditch effort to keep her sanity. "I...I made mistakes and I don't want to repeat them. I've just been hurting you, and Anders, and I...I'm disgusted with myself. Even if...even if I desire nothing more than to be in your arms again."

Her words were like a soothing balm that spread over his tortured heart; she had been longing for him as he had for her. Maker, this probably wasn't a good idea, but he didn't much care in this moment. It felt important, as if when the moment passed, it would never come again – he wasn't going to let it slip away. Not again.

"Hawke..." He slid his fingers into her dark hair and kissed her softly again. He whispered against her lips, "I love you. I've always loved you...I'm just sorry that I was too stubborn to realize it before it was too late. I...I just wanted you to know."

A soft sob came from her and she slid her own fingers into his snow white locks, using the hold to smash her lips to his. They kissed passionately, it deepening quickly, tongues dueling furiously, and then he knew that there was no turning back. He turned her in his lap, pulling her legs astride his hips and she moaned as the bulge of his erection pressed against her damp smallclothes. He groaned into her kiss as he rubbed himself against her, loving that the short skirt of her house clothes left nearly no barriers between them; he slipped a hand down between their bodies and found her center, caressing the damp lips ever so slightly outlined by the clothe of her undergarment. She trembled in his arms and broke their kiss, looking up into his eyes with a tormented expression.

Her hands trembled where they lay now on his shoulders. He took his hand from her and set both on her hips, his erection straining against his breeches to press against her. He had to suppress the rather strong urge to rub against her. "Hawke?"

"I'm a selfish person, Fenris..." She sighed softly. "I know this is wrong, that it is despicable of me to come running back to you, but...I...I want this. I want you." She trembled and brought his head down to kiss his lips softly. "I love you you stubborn elf. I can't keep myself from you any longer. I'm so very tired of trying."

"As am I," he whispered fiercely. "I can't wait any longer, I have to have you. _Now._" He rolled his hips against her to enunciate his point(no pun intended). She dropped her head back and moaned softly, body trembling as she mimicked his action and pressed her center against his cock in a roll of her hips. _Damnit. _They could do slow and loving later. He had to have her now and nothing short of spontaneous combustion would stop him.

He ripped away her small clothes and then sunk two fingers into her sheath, swallowing her cry with his mouth. She moaned and writhed against his fingers as he pumped them in her, hard, curling the digits to touch that spot that had her keening. She came apart in his arms, against his hand, as soon as he pushed his thumb against her bundle of nerves and caressed it in time with his thrusts. He ate up every moment of it. Before she completely recovered, he untied the laces of his breeches and freed his straining cock; his hands then found her hips and promptly brought her down on him, her hot sheath eating up every inch of him until he was seated deeply within her. They both moaned, shudders wracking their bodies. It was like coming home, he marveled. But he was unable to keep himself still.

They kissed again, lips melding and tongues caressing, as he used his hold on her hips to lift her and then slam her down on his cock again. She cried out, walls clenching on him tightly. "That's it, love," he murmured in a growl against her lips. "Let go for me."

Her hands found his back and held on as he began a brutal pace; hard, fast, again and again until they were both reeling. He vaguely felt her nails scratching over his back, her body arching up against his as she bounced in his lap. He grit his teeth, his sac burning with the impending release, but he was going to make her come before he let go. Again and again, he slid within her, stretching her, filling her in the most exquisite way and it wasn't long before she flung her head back and cried his name. He gave a few more frantic, hard, fast thrusts as her walls and sheath bathed him in her hot release before he too cried out and spilled his seed deep within her.

Panting, she fell against him and he slid his arms around her to hold her.

"Maker, Fenris..." she whispered softly.

"I know." He stood on shaky legs, still buried within her. "I'm not letting you go just yet, my Hawke. I've got months, _years_, to make up for."

Without another word he took her to his room, to his bed, and promptly spent the rest of the night doing said making up. Nothing could tear them apart, as wrapped up in each other as they were. Morning came, and they lay against each other, naked, sweaty, content, and pleasantly sated; it was a perfect morning...or so they thought.


	19. Chapter 19

**A/N: **Thank you so much for your reviews, alerts, and favorites! I can't always get to individual responses for reviews, but I appreciate every single one of them!

Disclaimer: Bioware

* * *

**A Wolf and Mage's Uneasy Path**

**Chapter Nineteen**

* * *

"Good morning," a voice murmured against her ear. Hawke mmm'd and shifted toward the voice, finding herself pressed up against a lithe, warm body, obviously male. The night came back to her bit by bit and by the time she allowed her eyes to open, she was grinning like an idiot, cheeks flushed. This was Fenris smiling down at her, a lock of white hair hanging over his eyes in disarray. Come to think of it, she had never seen him in the morning; their sexual adventures had always ended in one of them leaving as fast as possible, filled with regret.

"Mmm," she nuzzled her nose against his neck and sighed contently. "Good morning, Fenris."

He chuckled and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her flush against him. "How did you sleep?"

"As if you need to ask that," she murmured against his neck, nipping the flesh there with her teeth. She smiled as his body shuddered against her. She leaned back and wrapped her arms around his neck, pulled his head down so that their lips could meet; a gentle, loving kiss, a perfect epilogue to the night of their reunion.

"Hawke! HAWKE!"

Fenris cursed as he rolled out of the bed, snatched up his breeches, and slid into them, Hawke unable to tear her eyes away for the entirety of the action. How could she? She could spend all day looking at him, but given the urgency of whomever came calling for her, it didn't seem like a likely option for the day. Her brows drew down over her eyes as she frowned, rolled out of the bed, and donned her robe. Once they were both dressed, they left the room to see who was making all the ruckus in the foyer. She never expected to see Sebastian there, looking especially worried.

"Sebastian?" Hawke hurried down the steps to meet him. "What's the matter?"

"I apologize for my intrusion," he hastily asserted as his eyes found Fenris and then her. "You know I wouldn't have," he waved a hand to gesture toward them, "interrupted, unless it was important."

"I know. Don't worry. Now," she took Fenris' hand in hers, her heart pumping anxiously, "tell me what has you so upset." Fenris nodded, clearly worried as well, his fingers squeezing hers reassuringly.

"I need you to come with me," the prince said, rubbing his hands against his thighs, his brows drawn over his eyes anxiously. "The Knight-Commander and First Enchanter started arguing again. I didn't think anything of it, but it got worse and now Meredith is threatening to have the tower searched top and bottom for blood mages. Orsino denied her entry into the tower."

"Oh Maker," Hawke drew her free hand through her hair. "I assume all hell has broken loose?"

"Not yet. They're taking the argument to Elthina, to finally make a decision about who she is going to support." Sebastian shuddered. "I grow weary of them dragging the Grand Cleric into this."

"I grow tired of them myself!" Hawke sputtered with a roll of her eyes. "To the Void with them! You think after nearly losing the city to the Qunari, they would have left well enough alone! But no!" She stomped angrily toward the wall and snatched up her staff. "Come, this problem won't solve itself."

Fenris nodded and Sebastian whispered, "thank you, Hawke. I'm forever in your debt."

* * *

Something bad was going to happen, Hawke could feel it in her blood, her soul. This day was going to change _everything_. They split up and gathered their friends, before running to the Chantry, even though they could find no sign of Anders. His words continued to echo in her ears and so she ran, ran for all she was worth, the others doing their best to keep up with her.

"I will have the tower searched, top to bottom!"

Maker, that was Meredith! At the steps of the Chantry, she and the First Enchanter were still arguing, with a number of mages and Templar standing by. Oh yes, something bad was going to happen. It seemed the feud had finally erupted and there was only going to be one side that came out of this alive.

"You cannot do that! You have no right!"

"I have every right! You are harboring blood mages! I will have the tower searched from top to bottom. You are harboring blood mages." Orsino sneered at her words.

"You are always suspecting us all of blood magic! We are not all blood mages!" he snapped back at her.

Hawke came to stand in between them, panting as she tried to catch her breath.

"Please stop! What good is this going to do?" She said, growing irritated; it was the same old argument. Mages were evil, Templars were evil; would it ever end?

"There are blood mages in the tower and he refuses to let me root them out," Meredith told her with an exasperated sigh.

"And she is crazy! There are no blood mages!" Orsino denied. "We are not all evil."

"I know, Orsino but I must do this. It breaks my heart to do this but there is no other way; if you know of no other way then do not brand me a tyrant!" The Knight-Commander shook her head and turned to look at Hawke as if to ask her for her help.

"The Grand Cleric will decide this once and for all!" Orsino said, turning toward the steps to ascend them before Meredith grabbed his arm to stop him.

"You will not bring Her Grace into this!" She snapped angrily.

Hawke desperately tried to figure out what to do as she felt the tension reach its breaking point; this was it, the make it or break it moment. To the Void, she just wanted to take Fenris home and bask in the knowledge that, after all the pain and hardship, they were finally together. That was the selfish part of her, the part of her that was beginning to hate this city and its problems, the problems it has insisted dragging her into since the very first day she's stepped within its walls.

She didn't get the chance to say, or do, anything.

"The Grand Cleric cannot help you," a voice said – a voice she knew all too well. Had heard whispering words of love, once upon a time. Her eyes were frantic as she sought him out and she found him walking down the steps of the Chantry towards them; in her frantic search for him, she had figured he wouldn't have dared hiding within the Chantry's walls. She had been wrong. He'd been there all along, and must have known she would not come searching for him there.

"Anders? Where have you been?" Hawke asked anxiously, stepping forward to meet him as he passed Meredith and Orsino at the base of the steps. "I looked everywhere for you!"

He smiled, almost sadly. "I know. But it matter not now, Hawke. The time has come."

"No, Anders, please, whatever you are going to do, you can stop it."

"I cannot. Midnight is upon us," he sighed, before turning to face Meredith and Orsino.

"Why have you come from the Chantry!" Meredith stepped toward him angrily. "Explain yourself mage!"

"I will not stand by and watch you treat all mages like criminals," Anders said sternly, slamming his staff on the ground. "While those who are meant to lead us bow to their Templar jailors!"

"Anders, please stop this!" Hawke implored, reaching forward to grab his arm. He didn't pull away, but he didn't acknowledge her either.

"The circle has failed us, Orsino," he sighed. His flesh cracked and Hawke could see the eerie blue glow that came from inside, from Justice. She shuddered, her heart skipping in her chest; oh Maker, this was not good. "Even you should be able to see that. The time has come to act." It faded, and with shoulders dropped, he pulled away from her, turned away from her. "There can be no half measures," he said, almost in a plea, as if trying to get her to understand, to see why he was doing this.

"Anders," Hawke came toward him, grabbed his arm and yanked him around. "What have you done? Stop this! I know you can! It's not too late!"

He smiled sadly and it broke her heart because she knew he wouldn't stop. She had been too late, hadn't been able to save him from the spirit that had consumed him. "There is no turning back," he whispered.

"Anders - " the ground rumbled beneath her feet. Then it shook. It all happened to fast, she wasn't even sure what happened. One moment she was looking at Anders, then next she was watching as the Chantry separated into pieces, swirled in the air around the red beam of tainted magic, before exploding. The dust slammed through them and she coughed, swiping at her eyes as it settled. When she could see again, she saw nothing but the rubble that had been the Chantry.

"Elthina! NO!" Sebastian cried out, pushing forward to kneel at the steps, his body shaking. Hawke's heart ached to see her friend in such pain.

"Maker have mercy," Meredith whispered and Hawke could feel the words echoing within herself.

"There can be no peace," she heard Anders say. She turned toward him, in shock; she wanted to be angry, hurt, maybe start hitting him, or cry, or scream, but she felt nothing. She was numb.

"Why? Why would you do such a thing?" Orsino asked sadly.

"I removed the chance of compromise, because there can be no compromise," he said calmly. As if explaining a recipe. Hawke wanted to rage, she wanted to, but she was frozen, eyes watering as she stared at him; she had loved this man in some way, had tried to be there for him, but he had pulled away and now it was too late. She couldn't save him now.

"The Grand Cleric has been slain by magic, the Chantry destroyed," Meredith said and Hawke could feel her blood turn cold with dread. The Knight-Commander turned towards them, straightened herself, and stared upon them with those cold blue eyes; that dread turned to ice. "As Knight-Commander of Kirkwall, I hereby invoke the Rite of Annulment. Every mage in the circle is to be executed! Immediately!"

"The circle didn't even do this!" Orsino denied, turning toward Hawke as if to plead his case. "Champion! You can't let her do this! Help us stop this madness!"

Meredith turned on her next. "And I demand you stand with us! Even _you_ must see that this outrage can't be tolerated!"

"This is chaos!" Aveline said from behind her. "You _must_ side with the Knight-Commander."

"No, this wasn't their fault! You can't possibly want to slaughter innocent people, can you?" Merrill demanded.

"It can't be stopped now," Anders sighed as he straightened and turned toward her. "You have to chose, Hawke."

All eyes were on her in that moment. Again, she demanded an answer to why it always fell to her? She had not run from the Blight to get wrapped up, and thrown into the middle of, another war. Hawke turned narrowed eyes upon Anders. "Is this...Is this why you had me distract the Grand Cleric? Maker, I knew you had done something! You lied to me!"

"You? You helped him?" Sebastian turned accusing eyes upon her, but she shook her head in denial; she never would have done this willingly.

"If," he swallowed, "if you knew what I was planning, you would have felt honor bound to stop me. I couldn't take that chance. The circle is an injustice, in many places beyond Kirkwall. The world needs to see, Hawke."

"Of course I would have stopped you! I _tried_! Maker, Anders...what have you done?..." Hawke shuddered. With what, she didn't know.

"You fool! You have doomed us all!" Orsino screamed at him. Hawke couldn't agree more with those words.

"We were already doomed," Anders sneered. "A quick death now or a slow one later. I'd rather die fighting!"

"Maybe that's what you wanted, Anders!" Hawke snapped, stalking up to him and shoving him hard in the chest. "But did you bother to ask the rest of us? The rest of the mages? Did they ask you to do this! They will all die now because of this!"

"Hawke - "

"Don't Hawke me!" She snapped, shoving him again. "There was no call for this! You went too far, Anders! I knew I was losing you, but I tried to help you, Maker knows I tried. You are a murderer," she forced the words through her throat, balling her hands into fists at her sides. "The Grand Cleric, the mages; their blood is on _your _hands!"

"I know," he whispered, brokenly.

"Why are we even debating the Rite of Annulment when the monster responsible for this is right here?" Sebastian demanded, coming back to stand with Hawke. "I swear to you, I will kill him!"

"None of this matters. Even if I wished to, I cannot stay my hand. The people will demand blood," Meredith said and Hawke knew it to be true, knew that there was going to be a fight whether or not she chose a side.

"I don't want to get involved in this," she said, taking a step back. She wanted to turn and run, leave the city with Fenris and never look back; what was the point now?

"You are already involved," Meredith denied her words, glaring at her with irritation. "You are the Champion of Kirkwall! Do your duty, or fall with these mages!"

"I could have stopped you Anders!" Hawke cried out.

"No," was all he said.

"Elthina was a good woman! You murdered her!" Sebastian yelled, and Hawke barely kept him back with her arm. She had no doubt he would kill Anders and she was unsure whether or not she would save him; Elthina had been a good woman. She hadn't deserved what had happened to her.

"You must decide!" Meredith said impatiently.

"I - " Hawke swallowed thickly. How could she pick sides? Both sides harbored evil, both sides harbored innocents. Maker's breath, why? Damn Anders! Damn him for making it come to this! She had to think about this rationally, right? The Templars signed up for their duties, where as mages were born with their gifts; the Templars had a choice, the mages did not; the Templars were going to hunt down and execute the mages, and the mages were going to simply defend themselves. The mages should not all be condemned for what Anders had done, right? There were children in the circle, young mages, innocent mages, whose only sin was to be born with magic – like her. She was a mage. She couldn't let this happen. Not all mages were evil, but Meredith would not spare a single one if she was left to do as she wished. Hawke, better than anyone, knew the depravity of blood mages, but they did not stand for the whole of the mage population.

"I stand with my brethren," Hawke said, lifting her chin defiantly at the Knight-Commander. "I will not let her kill you. On that, you have my word."

"Hawke!" Sebastian didn't look happy as he turned on her, he even look betrayed.

"I'm sorry, my friend, but there are innocents – like Elthina – in the circle; children, people who had nothing to do with this, I cannot let them die for what Anders has done."

He nodded but her relief was short lived as Meredith turned on her next, then sicked her men on them. It was a hard battle, but after it was all said and down, they came out alright, though Meredith had ran to rally the men to attack the circle. Orsino did the same after the battle, leaving Anders' fate to her. At some point he had left to seat himself upon a crate, head bowed and in his hands.

"Hawke," Fenris stepped up beside her, set his gauntlet-clad hand on her shoulder. "You know what you have to do."

Her eyes burned. "I can't kill him, Fenris – I..."

"You tried to help him, love. You did. He pleaded with you to remember the man that he was, and not the man he had become." Fenris stepped around in front of her, looking her in the eye. "Do you think the man he was would let a murderer walk free? He hates the Templars for killing innocent mages, but did he not just murder innocents just to get at the Templars? What did Elthina do to deserve this?"

"She didn't deserve this," Hawke whispered brokenly. "None in the Chantry deserved to die. If Sebastian hadn't come to us, he could have been inside...Maker, Anders what have you done? Can we not just set him free, tell him to leave? Must we kill him?"

"If we set him free, who is to say he won't continue this foolish notion of vengeance? He could kill so many more innocents in the name of _Justice_," Fenris sighed softly and squeezed her shoulders. "He loved you, Hawke, but he didn't trust you to do right by him because he knew what he was doing was wrong. Do right by him now."

She nodded and then found herself standing behind Anders, looking down on him quietly, unsure of what to say. Of what she wanted to say.

As if he sensed her struggle, he said, "there's nothing you can say that I haven't already said to myself. I took a spirit into my soul and changed myself forever to achieve this. This is the justice all mages have awaited."

"Did...did Justice tell you to do this, Anders?" She whispered.

"No," he shook his head. "When we merged, he ceased to be. We are one now. I can no more ignore the injustice of the circle than he could."

"Anders..." Hawke scrubbed her hands once her face, then sighed softly. "I might have understood, if you had only told me. I tried to get you to open up to me, to talk to me."

"I wanted to tell you," he groaned, dragging his fingers through his hair. "So many times, I wanted to tell you. But what if you stopped me? Or worse, what if you wanted to help me? I couldn't let you do that, Hawke. I couldn't make you be responsible for this. But the world needs to see this, so we can stop pretending the circle is a solution." He lifted his chin. "And if I pay for that with my life...then I pay. Perhaps Justice would at least be free."

"Anders, you are a fool," Hawke whispered sadly. "Why couldn't you just let me help you?"

"Whatever you do, just do it," he said, though his voice trembled ever so slightly.

"Anders...I can't let this go. I tried to help you, I tried! But this!" She swept out a hand to indicate the rubble of the Chantry and the dead bodies of the Templars strewn all about them. "This is _not _justice! We could have found a way, there is _always_ a chance for peace!" She was screaming at him now, but didn't much care. "You...you have to pay for what you've done!"

"I know," he whispered. He turned his head to look up at her tear-drenched face, his amber eyes warm and accepting. "For what it's worth, I'm glad it's you. It was nice to be happy...for a while. You tell that that blighted elf he had better take care of you, or else I'll be coming back for him."

She shuddered and reached beneath her robes to pull out her dagger. "I hate you, Anders, for making me do this," she wept, "for making me kill someone I'd loved very dearly."

"I know, Hawke. It's okay to hate me."

"A part of me still loves you," Hawke whispered as he turned his back to her again. She took the dagger and shoved it into his back. He didn't cry out, but merely grunted, before he fell to the ground, a puddle of blood forming around him. She watched, weeping, as his eyes closed. Then he was still. So utterly still. "I hate you!" She screamed, falling beside his corpse to cry like a child upon him. She hadn't wanted to do this, but he had given her no choice, as he had been doing for so long now.

Fenris had to coax her away from his body, to do what must be done. Before it was too late.

* * *

**A/N: **I took some liberties with the scene, as I probably will with a few others. I wanted it to be more emotional. Next chapter is the last. :)


	20. Chapter 20 Final

**A/N: **This is it, lovies. The final chapter. I have only incorporated a few of the final talks and I've put a lot of work into this final bit; it's been a long time coming, though I am proud of myself for finishing the series in a matter of months. I want to thank everyone for their continued support; this, by far, has been my most successful Dragon Age piece and I hope to see you all again when I start my next one. Thank you so much for all your reviews, favorites, alerts; they have meant so much through this process, motivating me every step of the way. Thank you so much for sharing Hawke/Fenris/Anders' story with me!

Disclaimer: Bioware

* * *

**A Wolf and Mage's Uneasy Path**

**Chapter Twenty - Final  
**

* * *

Her world was on fire. The pain was unimaginable. Everything reeled around her, out of control. This had been her home; these had been her friends; one of them had been her lover. Now – _now_ – it was all falling to pieces, one bit at a time. And they expected her to carry this weight, to keep trudging on, one foot at a time, to do her duty and protect the life of every single mage in the circle from Meredith's cruel injustice and her Templar army. Not even an hour ago, she'd stabbed her ex lover in the back and watched him die; she was not allowed a moment to mourn him, or time to at least give him a proper burial. She'd had to steel herself, stomp down the pain, and walk on with her chin held high like they demanded of her.

She had never hated her role in Kirkwall more than she did this day.

They were almost to the Gallows, the boat creaking through the water as her eyes took in the devastation. Already she could see flames licking across the stones. Could _feel _the mana swirling in the air as the mages defended what they had come to call their prison. She had no choice but to get there, to save them, but now more than ever, she ached to be selfish, to have Fenris' arms around her while she wailed out her pain.

Hadn't this adult life taken enough from her? Her father, her baby sister, her mother, Anders, and quite possibly her baby brother – her _Templar _brother.

That fear that he would stand with the crazed Knight-Commander had always been there, buried beneath optimism and plain good old fashioned denial; but that fear, now, was more alive than it had ever been. Maker, after everything that she was forced to endure, standing against her brother – being forced to kill him like her enemies – was not something she desired. Her baby brother's blood on her hands would be the final push of the breakdown that had been a long time coming.

The boat came ashore and Hawke reigned in her pain, locked it up tight, and threw away the key; she couldn't be weak, she couldn't be selfish. This was bigger than her, and she had to see it that way. A piece upon the board, sent in to do its function. This was her's.

She could not weep, as she ached to do. She could not bury Anders, like she needed to do. She couldn't leave the city to its fate and run with Fenris, as she wanted to do.

No.

This _was _bigger than her. It had to be. There was no choice in that now.

She waved her companions to follow her as she forced one foot in front of the other and ran down the docks toward the stairs that led into the Gallows. They rushed up them as fast as their legs could carry them. Already the battle had broken out, mages defending themselves against invading Templars. Already bodies of both were strewn about the cobble stone without so much as a care to what became of them. More tallies to add on the score board, in Meredith's opinion no doubt.

The mages were falling back at Orsino's behest. "Quickly, quickly!" He shouted, as he backed slowly up the stairs that led into the circle, two Templar soldiers encroaching on him as he went. Once he reached the top, he gathered his mana and let it loose, fire consuming the two men before the blast sent one of them flying across the court yard to land at Hawke's feet.

"Orsino!" Her cry caught his attention.

"Champion! You've survived! Thank the Maker, we must - "

A rush of pounding footsteps had Hawke snapping around. "And here you are!" Meredith cried with what Hawke could only describe as sadistic pleasure, as if she had finally cornered her prey. The Knight-Captain was with her, as was Carver, her baby brother. Their eyes met for the briefest of moments before he broke the gaze, instead opting to glare at his boots.

"Let us speak, Meredith, before this battle destroys the city you _claim_ to protect!" Orsino spoke up as he descended the stairs, a few mages following behind, to meet Meredith and her men at the base. Pushing Hawke to stand at the sidelines, right in the middle of them.

"I will entertain a surrender, nothing more," Meredith offered with her lips curling distaste. "Speak, if you have something to say."

"Revoke the Rite of Annulment, Meredith, before this goes too far," Orsino pleaded, a plea that Hawke could feel echo within her. She wanted this to stop before the line between friend and foe became too indistinct to recognize. Fenris had opted to trust her, even over his hatred of mages, but how long would it last? How long would any of this – their friendships, their love, their feelings – failed to make a difference?

How long before Aveline's sense of duty overwhelmed her? How long before Fenris decided she wasn't worth this, allying with the one creature in existence he despised more than any other? How long before Sebastian turned on her, believing Meredith's solution best? How long before she was forced to kill her own brother? _How long. _

"Imprison us if you must," Orsino conceded. "Search the tower if you must. I will even help you. But do not kill us all for an act we did not commit!"

"The Grand Cleric is dead, killed – no, _murdered_ – by a mage. The people, they will demand retribution." She narrowed her eyes, her meaning clear as crystal. "I will give it to them. Although...your offer is commendable, Orsino, it comes too late."

Hawke sighed, dragged her hand across her face. "I was hoping this could be settled peacefully."

"I doubt we'll be seeing that," Orsino sighed in return.

"I suppose I should have expected no less from you, Champion." Meredith turned her cold blue gaze on her. "So be it, you shall join the circle's fate. Fitting, I think, since you are a mage."

"So what then?" Hawke snapped.

"What is to be, Meredith?" Orsino spoke up, stepping forward. "Do we fight here?"

"Go," Meredith waved her hand. "Prepare your people. The rest of the Order is already crossing the harbor."

"This isn't over!" Orsino promised her vehemently, then turned to retreat inside. Hawke's companions moved to do the same, but Hawke found herself rooted to the ground, her eyes seeking out her brother where he stood behind the Knight-Commander.

"Carver," she supplied his name cautiously. "Please don't do this."

"Your brother has nothing to say to you, Champion. Now go, before I decide not to be so lenient."

Hawke turned her gaze to Meredith, openly glaring at the witch. "I wasn't speaking to you, Meredith. I was speaking to my brother. He may be of your order, but he is my family. Do not think to stand between us!" The Knight-Commander narrowed her gaze, lips thinning, but made no move to instigate her. Hawke swung her gaze back to her brother, who's expression was unreadable to her for the first time in all their years together as siblings. "Carver - "

"You cannot defend these mages, sister," Carver finally said, though his eyes wavered, belying his words; he, more than anyone, knew what Hawke was capable of – if she wanted something done, nothing would stop her.

"I am one of these mages, brother. Meredith would turn on me if I helped her for that reason alone. She would not have hesitated to slaughter poor, sweet Bethany – your twin, our sister. She was a mage too, remember?" Hawke sighed softly. "Meredith is going too far. The innocents here – innocents like Bethany – are not responsible for what Anders did. The man responsible has already been punished," her voice cracked with pain, but she stubbornly stomped it down. "We cannot let her do this. Stand with me, Carver, please – we are family, all that's left."

"Bethany," he sighed their sister's name, sadness etched into his features.

"Yes, Bethany – would she have wanted this?"

"...No."

"That is enough!" Meredith snapped impatiently. "The Order dictates. The mages will die. If you go with your sister, you too will fall. I will not hesitate."

Carver's eyes turned to the Knight-Commander, studied her for a hard, long moment, before he shook his head. "My sister is right – you are reaching for any excuse you can. I will not take part in mindless slaughter." He fell out of file with the other Templars and walked toward Hawke, giving her a stern nod, before he too walked the steps into the circle. Hawke's heart swelled with pride; despite their differences, their struggles, he had enough faith to stand with her in the end.

Meredith's glare was nothing but ice. "This isn't over," she snapped. Hawke didn't doubt it even for a moment.

* * *

"It's hard not to look at these apostates and not see Anders," Sebastian confessed as he stepped up beside her where she stood in the central chamber of the circle; this is where they had gathered themselves, rallying together before the final battle. His words cut her deep, but she held herself strong, lifted her chin, and nodded.

"I'm sorry about Elthina," Hawke said softly; she wasn't the only one in pain, she knew. "But there is so much more at stake here, Sebastian."

"She was a mother to me, to every brother and sister in the chantry. _He_ never took a moment to get to know her," he paused a moment, taking stock of her torn expression, "but not every mage is Anders. I know." She nodded. "I don't know if we can win this, Hawke, or even if we should, but I will not turn from you now. You have been a good friend to me."

"As you have to me, Sebastian."

He smiled, even if it was faint. "It will be my honor to fight at your side, Hawke." Sebastian was quiet for a very long moment, very long. And even though he was torn, and tormented over the words, he said them, softly, "I'm sorry about Anders."

Her eyes burned, an threat of impending tears; why had she even doubted him? "Thank you," she said, her voice breaking over the two little words. She took that step that separated them, wrapping her arms around his neck to pull him into a tight hug. He stiffened, hesitated a moment, but then his arms wrapped around her waist to return the affectionate gesture. They broke apart and nodded, before Sebastian moved away to go speak with Varric.

She'd always had a friend in him. What kind of friend was she that she had doubted his loyalty to her? Tears rolled from her eyes and she had to stifle a sob; she couldn't breakdown here.

_Get it together, Hawke. This isn't the time or place. You're strong. You can do this. _

"Are you alright, Hawke?" Fenris asked softly as he came to stand behind her. She didn't even have to hear him speak to know that he was there; she could _feel_ him there, almost as if he were an extension of her own being. How did he feel being here, she wondered. Was he really willing to go through with this, just because of what they had, knowing it defied everything he stood for?

She turned to him with a soft smile, though the anxiety she knew must be written all over her face. "Are you sure you want to be here, Fenris?"

His lips curled up slightly. "Here I am, about to defend these mages in a hopeless battle. You lead me to strange places, Hawke."

"It's not hopeless," she sighed with a shake of her head. "When did we all become such pessimists? But don't you worry, I'll take you to stranger places than this, just watch."

He chuckled. "A tempting offer." He glanced off to the side as if he were debating his next words.

"What is it Fenris?"

"I...may not have a chance to say this again. I will just say it. Meeting you, Hawke...it was the most important thing that ever happened to me." He stepped toward her, his hand lifting slowly until he cupped her cheek in his gauntlet; what she wouldn't give to feel the flesh of his hand on her face, to have the simple gesture strengthen her resolve. "Promise me you won't die, Hawke," his voice cracked ever so slightly. "I can't bear the thought of living without you. Not after all this, everything we have been through to get here."

"I know, love, I know, but I will not make that promise unless you do," she said brokenly as he stepped back; to even think of losing him now, of losing any of her friends now, on the heel of Anders' death, she couldn't take it. They were going to make it through this, there was no other choice for them.

His expression turned fierce, eyes intense. She wanted to shudder at the wealth of emotion she saw in them. Maker, how had she come to love this man so fiercely. "Nothing is going to keep me from you. Not anymore," he growled as he stepped forward to pull her into his arms. Even in front of all their friends, in front of Orsino, in front of the circle mages, she went into them willing and pliant. His lips came down on hers, not soft and gentle, but hard and fierce. It was a kiss that spoke of the desperation that both of them felt. One that spoke of love that had come through, despite everything.

She may have been a fool to have run to Anders but she couldn't regret it, even now as she gave herself willing into Fenris' embrace. Anders had needed her, had needed some happiness, and she was at least glad she could have given it to him for a little while before he died.

They broke apart after a long moment of indulgence and she had to push back the tears as they threatened to free their chains all over again. She cupped his face in her hands, her eyes desperate as they gazed into his; she wanted to play the optimist, to stay strong, but if there was even a _slim _chance that they could fail, she had to make sure he knew, knew that she had loved him, still loved him, more than anyone who had come before him.

"I love you," she whispered, though the words were as strong as the mightiest blade.

He placed his gauntlet-clad hands over hers and turned his head to place a soft kiss on one palm, then the other. "And I love you, Hawke. I will forever remain at your side."

* * *

It was those words that kept her alive. Even as things went from bad to worse. It kept her going when Orsino betrayed them by turning to blood magic – the very same magic he'd learned of from the man who'd killed her mother – and became an abomination. It kept her going when Meredith ordered her arrest and when her men, Cullen in particular, refused her order and helped stand against her as the woman went mad. When the woman pulled the lyrium infused blade from her back and opted to just kill them all, for the Maker, believing their deaths to be in his glory. It had driven her insane as it had done Varric's brother, but the Knight-Commander was so far gone she thought she was perfectly sane. Fenris' words kept her going when the statues came to life and tried – and very nearly succeeded – to kill them all.

Maybe it was those words that enabled her to find the strength to deliver the final blow on Meredith and not fall beneath her onslaught. She turned to ash before their very eyes but she couldn't find the strength to be glad, to be happy that it was over because in her heart, she knew, she knew without a doubt, that it wasn't over. What Anders had done was going to set the world on fire; when others in circles around the world heard of Anders, of what he'd done, what he'd died for, they were going to rise up, like a phoenix from the ashes to strive for their freedom – hell, even their revenge.

They had to spend days recovering, each of them. Without Anders there they had to resort to Hawke's healing magic, which was weak as best even with the substantial amount of lyrium potions they stocked. Fenris never left her side, unless it was absolutely necessary. Weeks passed and things in Kirkwall began to return to some sort of normalcy; things were far from perfect, however. The suspicions of the mages became worse, so much so that even Hawke was regarded with double edged looks wherever she went in town. The newly appointed Knight-Commander Cullen knew her to be trust-worthy but Hawke knew that she couldn't stay. Not any longer.

When all was said and done, she, Fenris, and Sebastian decided to go to Starkhaven. She and Fenris helped him regain his throne and he welcomed them into his home. The world began to fall to pieces around them, and they knew the peace wouldn't last here, but they were determined to make the best of it.

It was nine months after reclaiming Starkhaven that Hawke gave birth to a half-elven child. It was a hard labor, one that had nearly claimed her life, but when she laid in that bed, weak, tired, a tiny little babe in her arms, she felt she had done good. That for this one brief moment, with Fenris' arms around her, _their child _in her arms, she was allowed to be selfish.

"What is his name?" The mid-wife asked.

Hawke turned her head to Fenris and met his gentle, loving kiss. When they parted, she whispered, "his name is Fenrir. Little Fenrir Anders Hawke."

He had known the pain she carried with her when she had put that dagger in Anders' back, known what his death had done to her; she still had nightmares. He'd been understanding and supportive, even now he remained as such; when she named that child, after both him and Anders, he understood. And he supported it, all the way.

It hadn't been an easy path for them, since day one. The pain, heartache, all of it had been worth this simple moment and she knew that the good in Anders, it lived on with them, in her and Fenris' child. She would tell him stories of his uncle Anders, of the good things he'd done and the thing he, and all of them believed in – freedom. And she was free at last, from that uneasy path they'd walked, to walk on a new one. One they had created together. And it was those words - I will forever remain at your side - that kept her walking it, with her chin held high and heart filled.


End file.
